


The Edcubus

by Strewn_Limbs



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Devils, Ed is an Incubus, Gotham City - Freeform, I've created my own version of incubus/succubus, M/M, Murder Boyfriends Eventually, Mythology - Freeform, Nygmobblepot, Oswald is as Penguin normally would be, incubus, just not how Ed thinks they will, more than just a sex beast, plots and crime and criminals and planning, they will end up together, you're charmed I'm sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-04-23 07:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 191,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strewn_Limbs/pseuds/Strewn_Limbs
Summary: Edward Nygma attempts to live his life well under the guise as a normal, human forensic pathologist.He just likes human souls as a side dish now and then.It's what an Incubus does.So when he sees a dapper looking fellow at a club, and how well they hit it off together, a soul seems guaranteed.





	1. Where Can We Be Alone?

Edward Nygma was normally a withdrawn man, choosing to live his life within the corners of establishments or in the side rooms of buildings. Any area that he could have space to himself, room to think. Any sense of peace where he could have a simple conversation with himself. Unfortunately, that was meant very literally. That he would address a second version of himself, but such was his life and he learned to… deal with that when it arose. 

Something that wasn’t so literal was the _man_ part. Man was a loose term, truly. He more followed along the lines of soul sucking demon that also happened to include genitals generally relating to the male identified form… semantics though, really. To put it specifically, he was an Incubus. A horribly misrepresented creature of mostly religious backgrounds that fed on the life force of humans. Nothing drastically out of the ordinary. 

His two sides clashed with each other often. Not just his two actual selves, but also his desire to have privacy and space, to be left alone and his physical need to feed on the souls of humans in order to continue living. And normally, that meant hitting up a bar at unearthly hours of the morning when most of the patrons had already been drinking for hours, losing control of reason. That loss of logical thought, and motor functions, made it very easy to convince a person to share a kiss. It didn’t take much to steal someone’s soul, a couple minutes of kissing could deplete a soul of roughly 85% of its contents. Proven through experiments he had perfected over time.

Edward had no one to teach him this path, didn’t have assistance in learning the specific ways of how to be a soul stealing creature of the under realm. He taught himself as much as he could through experiments and testing, as reading texts provided him with nothing but one-sided information mostly all provided from Christian views. There were several older books he had to source from libraries in other countries, to get copies and photographs of their pages, then going through translating them all… still, they were much more useful. 

The man waited for his turn in line outside a club, dressed well in a slim fitting dark grey suit and green tie, black vest with green vertical pinstripes would have him standing out somewhat. Girls loved a guy all dressed up, it made it easier to lure one or two in if he was the clean cut, stylish guy who still looked to have his business together.

Everyone wanted to hear a story from the man who stood out when they were inebriated. Of course no one cared if he was simply the quiet guy at work, or the man on the street looking around at the other people. 

He decided to keep the sour feeling locked inside, showing his ID to the man at the door before strolling into the crowded nightclub. It was fancier than the other dives and bars in town, flashing with neon lights, a well equipped DJ booth, and a light show to make a concert envious. Ed had to say that he was a bit impressed. This place had been running for several months at this point, clearly it was doing well so far, and there was entirely no smell of vomit in the air that he could tell. This place was much more tolerable than his other options.

At least for the time being. 

Ed made his way through the crowds as he was more than ready to put on his usual stunt for takeout. One rum and coke, minus the rum, and an empty booth within eyeshot of the dancefloor later and he was ready to take his shot with spotting a suitable meal. Ed nursed his soda for some time, getting a refill along the way but people weren’t drunkenly stumbling over. Which was a surprise. He wasn’t the best Incubus, but normally he could make eye contact long enough to charm someone. 

Edward relied a lot on his Incubi natural charm, using the power like a crutch to make it through the interactions. He didn’t have the rugged charm of most Incubi, he didn’t have the _smooth pickup lines_ that got people giggling, blushing, or glancing away. He had… riddles. And only 12% of people would actually humor him with them. Even by demon standards Ed didn’t have a traditional upbringing. Normally by three years of age the incubus or succubus child, disguised as a human child, left behind to be raised by the humans would be _kidnapped_ or would _run away_ , as he’d read. By what he could only guess from that, perhaps the demon parents came back to get their child. Like a long-term daycare program, once training was done then they’d take the baby back. 

Only no one ever came back for Ed. 

Edward made eye contact with a guy across the dance floor, also sat at a booth, clearly observing all that was around him. He looked like a predator. His, what looked as though to be, black hair was styled in every direction. Portions over his forehead, what almost seemed like tail feathers sticking up from the back of his skull. Interesting to say the least. Ed smiled softly, calling over the gentleman from a distance with a gesture of his head. The charm all Incubi and Succubi held sparking to life again in his chest, ready to go to work on the new offering.

He normally tried to avoid men all he could, but sometimes you took what you could get when you were hungry. The guy looked so cold, disconnected, observing… he felt as though he could relate. Ed hadn’t eaten in 8 days, any creature of his species would drop their standards for a snack at this point. He still had another week before he would start starving, but best to eat regularly.

Edward maintained eye contact with the man across the way, watching the short debate time between the stranger and a large man sat next to him. Maybe a socialite and his bodyguard? Hopefully. If that was a boyfriend he was going to have to take a dive in a fight if it got violent. He was of no size to use his strengths in public and not have it seem out of place. The warm feeling in his chest of his charm going to work crackled pleasantly like a fire, making soft snaps under his sternum. The stranger he was trying to charm got up from his table, dismissing the larger man with a hand before walk- err… limping over. 

Within a couple minutes the stranger made his way around the crowds like a professional, Ed straightening up in his seat as the man stood at the side of his table. “Seat?” Ed questioned in a raised voice, attempting to talk over the music, head bobbing to the seat on the other side of the table, inviting the stranger to join him. His charm went to work, doing what it could to convince his meal ticket to share the time with him. 

The stranger was dressed to the nines and Ed felt like he stood out a little less next to him. His all black suit well pressed, white collared shirt sitting crisply under a brocade grey vest and tie to match though in a shade of purple. The stranger watched him for a moment, eyeing the seat before nodding briefly, sitting down across from Ed in the circular booth. “So why-” The stranger began though knew there was little point in trying to have a discussion so far away. He moved himself over on the plush purple velvet cushions of the seat, inviting Ed closer with a tap of the seat. This… might be easier than he thought.

Ed closed more of the gap between them, sitting several inches away from the man, there being a polite space between their shoulders. The stranger leaned over, nose dangerously close to brushing against the shell of Ed’s ear. “So why have you come here tonight? You don’t seem to be the dancing type.” He spoke at a louder level, even with the close proximity it took effort to be heard. 

Ed’s other half leaned against the table, watching the patrons with hungry eyes, wanting to get several souls collected that night. _‘I’ve come to feed on the souls of the occupants of this club. Drain their life force until they are nothing but empty husks of who they once were.’_ Ed’s other half, whom he less than affectionately called Riddler, glanced over his shoulder to Ed, getting a brief glare in return. _‘What? Too direct?’_

“I’ve heard a few things about this place from coworkers.” Ed answered simply, not about to explain in detail that he’d heard coworkers discussing it while he was walking by. By no means were they actually talking _to_ him. “Heard it’s quite a lovely place.” He returned the information to the stranger’s ear, pulling back just briefly to keep the conversation going.

The stranger began to smile smugly, looking about the club with a nod. “Thank you, I pride myself in having a successful establishment. Glad word is in casual conversation.” He seemed to mimic Ed’s actions, not completely leaning away as they ended sentences. Staying close to the demon in disguise. 

Oh dear. 

_‘Ooh, you know just how to pick them, don’t you Eddie?’_

This man owned the club? So… his guess of socialite with a bodyguard seemed to be spot on. Still he couldn’t drain this man too much, he had to eat, but he couldn’t drain more than 50%. That was the limit, the stranger was too much of a figurehead for the club, if he was off after their discussion he wouldn’t put it past those large lugs to find him. The stranger leaned in again, restarting the conversation. “As thrilling as guessing your name has been in my head, may I ask what it is?”

Ed felt his charm flicker somewhat, his loss of confidence affecting his already sometimes shaky ability. Had to get this together again, take control. “Ed. Uhhh... Edward Nygma.”

 _‘I can’t believe you’re going to spare a perfectly good target and let him go.’_ Riddler scoffed before tapping himself in the forehead with his fingers, eyes still on the crowd. The figment of Ed’s personality split able to be perfectly heard despite the club music. _‘What am I saying, of course I believe it. What a wasted opportunity of controlling someone with this power.’_ Riddler commented, rolling his eyes in disgust, knowing exactly how his other half lived. How predictable. He was never surprised by Ed.

Ed ignored his other half still, giving the stranger a long grin as the club owner eyed him for a moment. He nodded in return, leaning back in to return the favor. “Oswald Cobblepot. It’s been a pleasant talk, Edward, but I should be off. Much to do, business never pauses.” Oswald began to dismiss himself, moving to begin the journey off the seat.

 _‘Think fast, Eddie, there goes our dinner.’_

“Wait…!” Ed made such a hop to catch up to Oswald’s progress off the seat, capturing the man’s hand in his own. How Oswald froze with his eyes snapping back to Ed defensively made the Incubus pause, sending shivers down his back. There was something incredibly dangerous about this man. “I-I uh…”

 _‘Give him to me, I’ll have this done in three minutes and fifteen seconds flat.’_ Riddler bragged, turning around to watch the happenings at the table himself. The personality always ready to jump at the bit to take on a challenge. This hardened socialite would be putty in his hands with his control of their charm. Charm worked best with confidence, something that oozed from him in bucketloads.

Ed swallowed heavily, mind quickly at work for any solution that wasn’t letting Riddler take over. He could be gone for a while if he decided he wasn’t done with certain things. 

“Well?” Oswald stared impatiently, but didn’t move just yet other than taking his hand out of Ed’s grasp.

Ed got closer again to share his last second save. “I… was wondering… if you would care to ditch business. Briefly, of course.” Ed focused himself, bringing back his lackluster swagger to have his charm ready again. When the familiar crackling warmed his bones he felt more at ease. There, he had this, no need to call in the big guns. “Call it a business proposition. Just a few minute meeting in your evening?” He offered Oswald, trying to get any sort of interest in the man. If he liked business, he could play a business angle. Simple. 

Oswald hesitated, clearly debating for a moment before shaking his head. “Alright.” He agreed, sitting comfortably on his seat again, using a hand to tug his suit jacket back in place after the movement, smoothing it out. “What is this proposition?”

Ed could’ve let out a sigh of relief at the agreement, he still had this. “If you own this club, I don’t suppose… you have an office with more privacy?” He suggested, eating a soul in public was always risky, but if this guy was who he said he was then this was perfect.

“I do.”

“Would you… possibly... mind-”

“-Mind sharing my office with you for several minutes?” Oswald finished, a tone of disbelief could hardly be heard over the club music, but his face said everything. Oswald’s eyebrows raised, staring at Ed, mouth twisted up into a grin, head tilted down. Edward could feel a roar in his chest as Oswald chuckled. “I must say, you have quite the bravado to proposition such a time with me, Mr. Nygma.” He was clearly toying with the idea in his mind. “I suppose this once I’ll make an exception to the rule of not bringing patrons behind closed doors.” 

Ed couldn’t help but feel somewhat accomplished that he managed to work his charm with the club owner, giving Riddler a cocky grin as he followed Oswald out of the booth and around the dancefloor. The Incubus couldn’t help but notice the large man standing where Oswald had been, sitting back down when the socialite waved his hand in dismissal. As long as he didn’t mess up anything along the way, he was guaranteed to eat that night. He might grab another bite on the way home, but this would do him at least for the time being. He’d leave the man with half his soul, that was more than enough that he might feel under the weather for the next couple weeks, but it wouldn’t deplete him. 

Oswald lead the way through the people, to a set of double doors in the back right corner of the club, ushering Ed inside with a gesture of his hand. “After you.” He allowed, the demon strolling into the office, nervously licking his upper lip to mentally prepare with Oswald in shortly behind him, shutting the doors. “Now, what was it you had in mind for this _meeting_ of yours?” Ed could hear the smile on the man, the music of the club still apparent, but more muffled behind the barriers. One could actually hold a conversation without needing to breathe all over someone’s earlobe.

“I was thinking, perhaps-” Edward turned around casually, arms rocketing toward the ceiling when he saw a gun in the hand of the other, having not expected such a reaction. “Well, I’ll be honest… I wasn’t thinking this would be the result.” He answered, eyes on the gun before they glanced back to Oswald’s face.

The club owner had disbelief heavy in his eyes, gun pointed at Ed’s chest, other hand clenched at his side. “Who sent you? Who thought this cheap trick would possibly work?” He questioned, taking a couple hobbled steps forward with a raised brow, head jutted towards Ed with expectation of an answer.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” 

_‘And I’m afraid this’ll be the end of us in such a nice buffet restaurant. How did you screw up charming this man **so** badly that you actually achieved the opposite of what it’s supposed to do? You have reached an entirely new level of incompetence.’_ Riddler berated with a shake of his head, walking around Oswald as he observed the gun in his hand. 

“You know exactly what I mean!” Oswald claimed, using his gun to emphasise his point, flicking it in his hand in Edward’s direction. “Come clean now, and perhaps we can work out a deal. You get to live, I get information from your employer.” Though Ed did not trust the look in the eyes of the socialite, this was a man that would shoot you on sight if it was convenient for him. The man who would put a bullet in your head for taking the last candy he so wanted from the vending machine. 

Oh dear. 

“I don’t have an employer.” That was a lie, technically. “Well, actually, I do have an employer, but it’s not one that you seem to be suggesting. My employer is at the GCPD.” Oswald seemed to tense at the abbreviation, eyes narrowing. “I’m a forensic worker, I’m not an officer by any means, if that’s your worry. I’m here of my own volition. Just… trying to get… a date, I suppose.” Date? Is that what he was working at? Was that believable? 

“A date?” What appeared to be Oswald’s _I-don’t-believe-it_ face came on again. “You honestly expect me to believe something so stupid? What kind of a moron do you take me for?” 

_‘Do you think we should answer him honestly, or…?’_ Riddler asked Ed with a smirk, strolling around to get a good look at Oswald’s face. _‘I like him. He’s feisty. Must appreciate a man who’s paranoia is so strong he trusts and believes no one. You are by far no threat to anyone, Eddie, you hardly look intimidating in any way, shape, or form. Yet, he still doesn’t believe you. This man has witnessed events.’_ Ed’s other half seemed to appreciate Oswald’s hostility and readiness to threaten a man, hands neatly behind his back as he paced the room. 

“I wouldn’t exactly pick _feisty_ as my first word…” Ed mumbled aloud, having heard Riddler so much at that point that night he responded without thinking, hearing the gun cock in front of him. 

Oh dear.

“Excuse me?” Oswald aimed the gun higher, putting the barrel in Ed’s sights, walking closer to the man with his arms in the air. “No one said _feisty_. Are you wearing a wire?” One could entirely believe a police department would send in one of their other employees in, in this town. Police were a dime a dozen. They all had the same look about them, it would be easy to tell in a crowd which ones were police meant to get one alone to interrogate them. Edward did not read police officer to any degree. He could be easy to pose as a civilian to earn trust without setting off alarms.

Ed allowed himself to be checked over, suit jacket and vest opened, a desperate hand patting him over to check for wires against his torso, back, and legs. Nothing down his sleeves, around his collar… Oswald was confident he was clean of technology, only finding a flip phone in his jacket pocket that was set onto his desk. “I promise, Mr. Cobblepot, I’m only here to try and… meet a few new people. I’m clean.”

“And I, amazingly, don’t believe you. So try again.”

_‘Come on Eddie, let me out. Let me handle this. I’ll have him cooing for more, he’ll be calling you tomorrow asking how your day was. Let me out. Let me talk to him.’_

Ed wasn’t getting anywhere with this, feeling his head begin to split in pain like a sudden headache coming on. Riddler was fighting to get out, pushing to gain control again, not satisfied with simply waiting on the bleachers anymore. “Alright.” He agreed aloud, earning a head raise from both Oswald and Riddler just feet in front of him.

“Good. Now this time, if you would, the truth. _Edward._ ” Oswald was pleased to be getting somewhere after this long, wanting to shoot his gun as a last possible effort in case anyone were to hear from outside. As much as he trusted the overly loud dance hall, best not to take chances he didn’t need to. 

_‘Good. You’ve made a smart choice for once, Eddie.’_

Ed let himself sink back into his head, refusing to fight Riddler if it meant that they could possibly leave the club intact. It was always awkward attempting to leave somewhere as a corpse, dodging eyes on the way back to his apartment covered in blood.

“You want the truth? The truth is that I came here for you.” Riddler answered, feeling Ed immediately push back on his mind. He was in control now though, and he had better fight than Ed to maintain power. 

“I knew it.” Oswald shook his head, letting out a deep breath. “Now that we’re actually getting somewhere, who sent you?”

“I did.” 

Oswald stared for a long moment, eyes blinking heavily as though Ed had slapped him. “You sent… yourself?” He repeated to clarify, lost on what the course of action had to be for Edward in all of this.

“Yes, I admit it. I came here to try and find you.” Riddler’s arms began to sink, taking less of a defensive stance as he went, turning on his version of the charm that burned intensely in his chest. His charm didn’t just crackle, like Eddie’s. His popped. Like someone had put firecrackers in flames and let them explode. He was infinitely more confident and ruthless, his charm was flawless. He could convince anyone he desired to do whatever he wanted, and he loved having so much control over people. “A debonair philanthropist taking the club scene in downtown Gotham by storm? How could I resist coming to see for myself? To try and meet this man. See if I couldn’t… get him alone.” Riddler could coat something in charm he was so good at what he did. He knew how to use their powers as they were given, as they were intended.

Oswald couldn’t help but smile at that, clearly the charm working as Riddler continued to throw sweet words into the air. “Oh, do go on.” However, the gun remained up. Riddler’s arms, however, were down. He did not feel at all threatened by the weapon or its holder.

“How could anyone resist someone of such a powerful stance? A business owner and so sharply dressed? A powerful combination. I’m shocked you don’t have a flock of people on your arms at this moment.” Riddler took a step forward, taking his chances with the man now that he should be properly buttered up. “If this is your idea of foreplay though, I can see why some might be _intimidated_ by such power and maintain their distance.”

“And you are not one of these people, I assume?” Oswald questioned, allowing Riddler to advance on him, staring into the Incubus’ eyes deeply.

Riddler shrugged casually, raising a hand to run over his already slicked back hair. “What can I say? I don’t scare easily. And you’re just my type.” He commented, taking paces until the barrel was pressed against his collarbone, willing to risk the bullet hole if it meant adding to the impressed feeling this man must have. Putty in his ha-

“I’m no one’s type.” Oswald quickly replied, firing the gun into Riddler’s chest, causing the Incubus to stop entirely. 

Yes, the bullet hurt, but… he was using full charm. He could cook an egg on his chest at this point he was so warm. He’d be glowing if he were made of metal. How in the absolute dickens did he get shot? There was NO WAY this man should’ve shot him. It was impossible! This was ludacris! “I’m… I’m sorry, did you just shoot me? Me? Of all people at this moment, you shot me?” 

Riddler’s hurt pride prevented him from living up the fact that he was _human_ who was just shot at nothing less than the ultimate point blank range, the man more insulted by the fact that Oswald wasn’t being charmed by him at the moment. 

“I… I thought I shot you.” The club owner had to admit he was rather perplexed himself, his eyes staring in shock from the end of the gun to Edward’s chest and back. That… “Excuse me, I just need to make sure this is working.” He excused himself, putting the gun back against Ed’s chest, firing a second and then a third time. What was even going on? Was he dreaming? Was this one too many chardonne and whiskeys from across the night built up on him?

Riddler pouted, watching as Oswald shot him again. He could see the blood soaking his shirt, but it meant nothing life threatening to him. “Alright, but only if I can see if this is working.” He returned, baffled at the current situation. He was not one to catch unaware or to surprise. That was not something that was possible. He was unsurprisable! He knew every possible outcome to a situation, and this wasn’t one of them!

“If what is-”

The club owner was held closely, Riddler taking the man into his arms, dipping him back while staring him so lovingly in his eyes it was like they’d been together for a lifetime. “The first time I saw you I was completely enamored.” He turned on his charm as much as it would go, resting their foreheads together, brushing a hand over Oswald’s cheek. “I’ve never seen a man so beautiful in all my life.”

A fourth bullet penetrated Ed’s chest. 

“Not working, huh?” 

“Not in the slightest.”


	2. Him and I

Riddler stood before Oswald in the man’s office at the back of the club, eyeing him curiously. “Why can’t I charm you?”

“Why can’t I kill you?” Oswald asked an equally good question from his own end of things, checking the gun in his hold curiously, he inspected a bullet, putting it back in the gun and firing at the floor. A chunk missing out of the hardwood planks could satisfy him for one answer, but not for the other. 

“I would surmise that would be because I’m not human.” Riddler offered, glancing down at the blood that ran over his once clean vest. Which… was inconvenient. Dry cleaning could cost an arm and a leg. At least with the bullet holes the shirt and tie were lost causes. That he wouldn’t need to explain. 

Oswald stopped entirely, staring at Ed with wide eyes. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

“I’m… I don’t think I’m catching on to this game you’re playing at… whatever and whoever you are.” The club owner went back to his desk, hobbling to a drawer in order to fill the magazine of his gun. He aimed it at Ed, shooting him in the stomach with his fifth shot. “Huh. Well, that is puzzling, I must say.” 

“Enough! Can… you **stop** shooting me?” Riddler requested with impatience growing in his voice, getting tired of the holes being put into his body. Though now he didn’t have to get the vest cleaned. That was tossed as well. If he ever ran into Oswald again he was going to need to buy a new outfit every day after. 

Oswald considered his actions before setting the gun down, reloading his one used bullet before putting the gun away in the drawer. It wouldn’t do him any good regardless so he discovered. “Not human you say…” He spoke, not looking particularly surprised at the revelation. “Some sort of fiend…?” The man in the grey suit could see how Oswald was thinking, trying to deduce something in his mind. The question earning a nod from Riddler. It told Oswald nothing as there were an infinite amount of fiend species. “Interesting. So, would I perhaps be able to make a literal deal with a devil at this very moment?” The club owner was nothing if not an opportunist. If a fiend was brought to his doors, of course he was going to do what he could to take advantage of it.

“I’m not a devil, but you could if you have something that interests me.” Ed allowed. Unlike the devils he wouldn’t be bound by any sort of blood oath or demon’s word, it would be a deal for as long as he wished to keep it. He had the power to break his own word at any time. 

“So not bound by pacts.” 

“No. I could turn on you as fast as I wished, if I wanted to.” Riddler took the time to walk about the room as Oswald sat at the chair behind the desk, the Incubus admiring the art on the walls. “Why do you have this?” He pointed at a particular painting that didn’t fit the mood of the room, noting its frame was off from the other paintings. Everything clearly held to a motif in the office. Which bothered Riddler to his demon core, not appreciating such a tidy area with bland, planned items about. 

Oswald looked up, noting the painting the so-called fiend pointed at, grinning softly to himself before he would answer. “That’s something my mother painted when she was young.” He answered shortly. “It stands out like a sore thumb in here, but perhaps that is the reason I need it.” Something that broke up the room, made it personal in the smallest way. He was sentimental, that was no mystery, one painting stood out but it did little to kill the interior design.

Riddler admired it, the uneven strokes, every random set of spots making a flower that didn’t entirely align perfectly. It was soft, in a pastel palette. “It’s lovely.” He complimented, transfixed to the one painting until he peeled himself away. Incubi and Succubi were hoarding creatures, one look at Ed’s apartment could tell you that. As much as every item had a place, none of the items collected matched each other very well. His species enjoyed collecting items that meant something to them, that had a memory attached to them, no matter how small. Having a collection made them happier in general. 

Given Ed’s upbringing, happy memories were things he could use more of. 

“Thank you, she would have appreciated that.” 

_Would have._ So she was dead. Probably. “A shame she isn’t around to accept it herself.” Riddler could feel himself letting go a bit at a time, feeling the heaviness in his heart as Ed pushed his way back to the surface. The lug was a sucker for emotion, and this mother thing was getting a little close to home. It might be a reasonable time to retreat, he’d continue giving advice from the sidelines when needed. Now… now he didn’t feel so well.

“It is.”

Oswald’s answers continued to get shorter, more agreeable as the conversation dragged into silence, Riddler soon disappearing as Ed appeared, taking over the emotional situation. He blinked a few times, resituating himself with the goings on, looking at the painting again. “You know,” he began. “I can feel your pain for an item such as this.” He commented, turning to see Oswald staring out a window behind his desk, clearly deep in thought. Still, he got a noise of acknowledgement. “I keep a set of porcelain pyramids by a bookshelf in my apartment.”

People often felt better with common ground, so… why not give Oswald something he could relate to if losing his mother was something they could share. They had one nasty secret together at this point, perhaps a second secret would help create some sort of bond so the first secret wouldn’t be released. “I… uhhh… I never knew my birth parents. Don’t know if they’re both fiends. Don’t know if one is and one isn’t. They left me in a… less than comfortable home that later was hit with a revolution of the African-American slaves kept there. So my forced-adoptive parents were killed, I was forgotten.” 

Oswald had to think about that for a moment. “Did… Did you just say slaves? Slavery was banned in the 1800’s.” He recalled, not knowing the exact date it was written to be illegal, but it was at some point in that century.

Ed simply nodded. “That is a correct statement, it was made illegal in 1865.” He answered, before walking about the room again. “I think I was born in 1819. Maybe, I could be off a couple years, I didn’t know my age for a short length of time. We don’t age quite like humans, so I may be slightly incorrect in my maths.” 

“So that makes you, what… exactly?”

“About 178 years old. 179 this year.” 

“Huh.” Oswald didn’t give him much of a response, still listening but not entirely there. He was at least absorbing information so far.

“I was… I think 7 or 8 when that happened. Ran away from the plantation, got lost in the woods, was found by a Sphinx, raised by her for 10 years then went out on my own.”

“I must have heard you wrong. I thought you said Sphinx for a moment.” Ed’s story kept adding to itself, and Oswald could seemingly only stare back at the Incubus, obviously not having expected that. “You mean for me to believe that there was… a Sphinx in America. The Egypt thing… was here?” He couldn’t describe what it was, but he knew of the statue to a Sphinx was in Egypt.

Ed nodded politely, touching a vase that sat as only decoration on a side table. “Correct. Fun fact, Sphinxes do have functional wings and use them to migrate between countries every 30 years. They find short, long-term places to hide where there are passersby so they may ask their riddles and kill whoever gets them wrong.” The Incubus gave Oswald a happy tid bit. Mother Sphinx was the reason he adored riddles to begin with. She raised him when no one else wanted to, let him feed on the souls of those who guessed her riddles wrong before consuming the empty husks. Seeing humans fail her riddles, seeing the humans come to their end… it gave Ed a thrill, he couldn’t lie. And his other half, who was much less noticeable then, fell in maternal love with the beast and her ruthless behavior.

That’s when he began writing his own riddles, when he would ask her to give him more and more brain teasers to test himself. He had wanted to make her proud, create riddles that no one could solve. He wanted to be the best riddler that he could possibly be. And now one half of him truly was.

The club owner leaned back further into his chair, slouching slightly as his fingers moved to rap on his desk. “You’ll need to forgive me if I still appear to be skeptical.” Oswald requested, using his free hand to massage the bridge of his nose. “So, if I may summarize. You are a fiend that is 178 years old, raised by a Sphinx, you can’t be killed by at least bullets, and use some type of charm hypnotism. Have I covered just about all that we’ve discovered this evening?” 

“Those are all accurate statements of my life, yes.” Ed didn’t know why they needed going over again, he thought they had touched on each topic perfectly when he spoke of them. 

“How do you keep your life going? Do you eat?” Oswald questioned, attempting to find footing in the situation to help him towards his ultimate goal at the moment. There could be great power in striking a deal with a fiend, or getting on its good side, just had to discover how to keep its interest.

Ed shrugged simply, observing the next generic painting, but none were like the imperfect representation in Oswald’s mother’s painting. So much more charming than the stamped canvases around them. “I do, in a sense.” He glanced over to Oswald with a small grin forming. “I’m nothing you can hear, but I’m in your music. I’m nothing you can feel, but I’m there when the shoe fits. What am I?” This wasn’t made to be a stumper, but they didn’t all need to be works of art when he was having a simple conversation.

Oswald’s eyes refused to meet Ed’s, glaring upward like he was threatening a hidden camera near the ceiling molding. A heavy sinking of his eyelids and a noticeable sigh later before Ed was directly addressed again. “In the midst of all this… you ask me a riddle?” Ed nodded gently, clearly pleased with himself.

“Do you give up?”

“Sure.”

The Incubus couldn’t help his pout, grin fading to a hard line. “You didn’t even try.” He felt more insulted than anything, approaching the club owner quickly from his place just fifteen feet away. “You shot me five times and ruined this suit, the least you can do is actually attempt to put three brain cells into my riddle.” He pointed out, feeling as though Oswald was being quite rude. 

Oswald rolled his eyes, not wishing to participate but if he wanted favor with the fiend… “Alright, alright. I’ll solve your childish riddle.” He caved, Oswald sitting himself more upright in his chair, leaning forward to interlock his fingers together, elbows on his desk with his mouth pressed into his thumbs. “Shoes… Music… can’t hear or feel it…” Ed could see the light bulb go off in the Oswald’s eyes, the man slapping one of his hands down on his desk. “Soul!” 

Ed’s pleasant expression returned, the man strolling a few feet away from the desk. “See? Now was that so hard to play along?” He teased, used to playing with his food fairly often. Though this appetizer had caused him enough trouble already.

Oswald huffed with a light smile, brushing off the rhetorical question to continue with his desired topic. “So you eat souls.”

“Human souls.”

“Ahh, yes. Thank you. _Human_ souls.” Oswald corrected himself when Ed put out the clarification. “You eat human souls which is why you’ve come to a bar this early in the morning.” That made sense, people would normally be easy targets. “Edward, how would you feel if I offered you exclusive rights to the patrons in this club? I don’t know how many others there are like you in the city, but if something like you can’t charm me then there is no other fiends sweet talking me to have them stay. They could be removed. This could be your personal feeding ground.”

Exclusive buffet rights to one of the cleanest clubs in town he’d seen? Being close to the owner that even if he was caught attempting to hit on a number of people around that it wouldn’t matter? Hmm. It’d be more reliable…

“Do different people have different souls?” 

Ed had to think of how to explain it. “Somewhat. Someone of a more… sinister lifestyle has a darker, more bitter soul. Those are a more rare commodity to find a truly evil biased soul. They are a favorite treat for my kind.”

Oswald looked to perk up, the man standing up with a smile. “Edward, do I have a deal for you.” This sounded promising. “How often do you need these… meals?”

Ed had an answer for this after accidentally having gotten close to starving as a child when he was lost in the woods without a human soul around before Mother Sphinx had found him. “One every week usually suffices, though we can hold onto several at a time and feed slowly over a given period.”

“Ahh, that is excellent to hear.” Oswald held onto his oddly cheerful demeanor, approaching Ed with that usual hobble to his walk. “Edward, I’ll sweeten the deal further, we’ll make a trade. You can come to my establishment for meals, feed off one or two patrons a week. Give me warning on the nights you wish to arrive and I will personally see to it that you have an entourage waiting for your choosing to feed from. In exchange, you will owe me a favor and will assist in ridding me of some… personal issues as they arise. I have a number of rather unsavory enemies, ones you might find particularly delectable.” Oswald was more than confident in his offer, waiting anxiously for Ed’s thoughts.

“So… I owe you a favor, but you see to my feeding.” He repeated, thinking over where this could go wrong. In many ways, really. Still, it was difficult to pass up the opportunity at guaranteed souls being just short of dumped in his lap. And the promise of one of Oswald’s enemies dropped into his hands now and then? Being able to have that soul delicacy? His mouth watered thinking about it. Oswald attempted to kill him for being suspicious and flirtatious, no doubt the man’s enemies were of a similar level.

“Does that sound like a promising partnership to you, Ed?” Oswald was more than pleased with himself, holding out a hand to the Incubus to seal the deal.

Ed stared at the hand for a long moment, still considering his options when he saw Oswald’s chair spin behind the desk to show him Riddler having taken a seat.

 _“If we owe him a favor, and he knows we’re some sort of fiend, he’ll at least keep us a secret until he’s used us to our fullest. Wouldn’t be the worst to get a few meals out of it while it lasts.”_ Riddler pointed out, examining his nails with an elbow leaned on the desk. _“Worse comes to worst, we kill him. Easy as that. Can’t charm him, but unlike us, I don’t think he’ll survive a well-placed bullet.”_

“I do believe that is a deal, Ozzie.” The Incubus returned the nickname with a chuckle, seeing the temporary look of disgust on the man’s face at the name. 

“I’ll let that slide for now. Only because I don’t have anything to kill you with…” Oswald claimed, returning to his desk to relax for the time being though he was tense, hands gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white. This man didn’t seem to take to nicknames well. Riddler scooting out of Oswald’s way to stand beside the club owner at the desk, eyeing him carefully. “Now, as a sign of good faith and the first step in this partnership, please, go out and tell the large fellow that was at my booth you need an assortment of whatever people you’re looking for and a VIP room. You’ll have your first soul under this roof and the privacy you need.” The club owner directed, 

Ed nodded, figuring there was no secret password he had to pass along with the message. “Thank you, Ozzie.” Watching Oswald cringe at the name made him grin, amusing him to a chaotic degree.

“Yes well, what can I say? I’m a humanit- Fienditarian.” He fixed his statement, seeing as Ed wasn’t actually human that felt more accurate. He shooed the Incubus out with a wave of his hand, concluding the meeting while Riddler stayed in the room until the doors shut behind Ed, leaving Oswald alone.

Ed left the office, going to report what he was told to the large gentleman who once sat at Oswald’s side. A quick soul taking later and he was heading for his apartment. 

The night ended with no further interruptions, enjoying a peaceful night of sleep that he didn’t need. Still it was relaxing to shut down after a long evening, and the relaxed time helped his body push out the five slugs that remained in his torso until some time in the night. Ed woke up with them in his bed, throwing them out in the garbage in the bathroom as he went about spiffing up his human guise to seem presentable if a social situation called for it. 

A social situation meaning if the GCPD needed him for anything, though if they called hopefully he had the morning to think about Oswald’s offer to him. And his other self.

Once Ed left the bathroom he took the ruined suit from last night, bagging it up to rid himself of it when he noticed the paper on the floor in front of his door. It had to have come from the hall. From whom though…? 

Ed threw out the old suit, then went back to get his glasses, needing them to see what the paper was for. Demons did not have perfect vision in every realm. In their own, yes. Even the upper realm it was above average perfection. However, in the mid-realm… there was something either about their lighting or atmosphere or refractions that made everything seem blurry to his kind. Many demons needed glasses in mid-realm, which was fine, it was just one more thing to take care of.

With his spectacles on his face, and paper in his hand he could inspect what he could now see to be a note to his fullest potential, observing how fancy the… cardstock was. A thick, soft feeling paper material embossed with a border and a metallic purple pinstripe rectangle held within the border. In the center of the available free-space was handwriting he’d never seen before. 

_‘Edward,_  
I do apologize for distributing a few personal issues through your ensemble last night. It was a reckless act, however, I do think this will suffice as substitution. As well as add some quality to your no doubt civilian collection if last night was anything to judge from. It will need some adjustment, but we’ll handle that at a later date.  
Look on your door. 

_Enjoy friend,  
Oswald Cobblepot ☂’_

Friend? They were friends now? Or was he trying to be clever and use fiend without startling anyone who might see the card and think it meant malicious intent for him? Either way, it was interesting. Ed kept the card in hand as he opened the door, looking on the other side to see a solid black garment bag hanging from his doorknob on the hallway side.

Ed gathered it quickly, bringing it in and shut the door behind him to hang the bag where it could freely hang without dragging on the floor. Oswald got him… a replacement? Although worded with a certain tone in the middle of the message, it was a kind gesture overall.

 _“He got us a gift?”_ The Riddler nosed in, moving from behind Ed to stare at the bag curiously. _“Well, open it. I’m just a figment, I can’t actually physically handle this.”_ He pointed out, impatiently waiting to see if it was actually a suit in the bag. Or perhaps a very thin man waiting to shoot them again. One way to find out though.

Ed moved forward to unzip the bag, adjusting the two flaps open more so that he could see the suit inside. It looked similar enough to the one Oswald had shot through, though it was not something he’d pick out immediately himself.

 _“Would you look at that? Sugar Ozzie’s buying us nice things already.”_ Riddler pointed out, running a hand over the fabric. _“I’m impressed. Until we have to kill him, this might work out in our favor.”_

Ed rolled his eyes at the comment, taking in each detail of the garment. Double breasted coat in a smooth black. The vest a deep emerald green to match the tie and pocket square that went along with it, all three sporting a pattern of hardly noticeable, diagonal striping in a more light catching thread of the same green. White collared shirt pristine without a speck of blood or a single wrinkle. Pressed black trousers hung inside the jacket neatly. “He wasn’t wrong to say it’s higher quality than what we have.” Ed mumbled, rubbing the lapel with his fingers to see what the material was. It was soft, it felt much less stiff than his usual suits. “Also, never call him that again.” 

_“We’ll see.”_ Riddler wouldn’t agree to stopping entirely, if he thought it would be amusing for himself he by all means was going to announce it in Ed’s head. As loud as he could. _“I suppose we’ll have to set up that date to get this fitted. There is no logistical way he managed to guess our measurements after one encounter. And if I’m going to be in it, it’s going to fit immaculately.”_ Riddler’s standards were high, not about to step a foot out of the apartment in anything that didn’t reflect at least some of his personality. Which was why on some days he rebelled against Ed’s outfit choices. They simply weren’t good enough for him.

Ed shook his head, closing the garment bag as he strolled over to his bookshelf, looking for something he’d only read twice as a way to pass the morning. “It isn’t a date.” He stated as he set Oswald’s card in a spot on the shelf, leaning it against a small, framed picture of an old factory.

 _“Let’s see… He’s set up dinner for us during the entirety of his managerial overseeing. He’s now bought us a fancy new outfit. He’s sent us the equivalent of ‘Do you like me now? Circle Y or N’ in our locker by getting it in here.”_ Riddler pointed out, showing the possible outcomes. _“All I’m saying is… how could it hurt to have a man like that partnered with us?”_

Ed huffed, pulling a book from the shelf. It was unfortunately a third time read, but it was something else to think about. “You’re only saying that because you’re mad you couldn’t charm him.” The Incubus grinned to himself, knowing how Riddler thought, knowing he had this part correct.

Riddler paused, brows knitting together as he took a defensive stance. _“I am doing no such thing! The fact that he’s unable to be charmed is an issue on his mental behalf. Obviously.”_

“Obviously.” Ed echoed, getting comfortable in a chair as he cracked open the hardcover of the educational text, eyes on the words though he had yet to start reading. “You see this as a personal challenge, don’t you?”

_“He’s a deranged psychopath, ready and willing to offer humans to us that pay him for a safe environment, betraying his customers in order to get on our good side! A good side he only desires because he knows we’re a fiend and believes he can get something from us! He’ll use us in some underhanded manner and feel no guilt for it. **HE SHOT ME A NUMBER OF TIMES!** ”_

“That you’re not bitter about at all. And, he shot me as well.”

 _“You were purely collateral damage, Eddie.”_ Riddler wrote off Ed’s involvement in the shooting. _“If I may continue?”_ Riddler watched as Ed flipped to the next page without a word, only nodding in reply. _“Good. He’s as bad as the people we’re looking forward to consuming the souls of, if not worse. He couldn’t be bothered to try that riddle until you expressed discontent and he tried to make up for it to win our favor.”_

Ed marked the word he was at with his finger, glancing to the ceiling as he considered everything that was presented to him in the rant-like discussion. “So let’s see the list here… Deranged, psychotic, willing to betray, manipulative, underhanded, evil, and frustrating. What do you know, you two make a perfect couple.” He mocked his other half, returning to his reading until a hand slapped onto the book, earning his attention at the same time of making all the muscles in his body clench at the jump.

Ed didn’t like the look on Riddler’s face, swallowing thickly when he realised he had said something that would backfire onto him. _“You know, Eddie… You may have something there. You’re surprisingly full of good ideas lately. He and **I would** make a great couple.”_

Oh dear.

He was going to have a lot of headaches coming up soon… somehow, he could feel it already.


	3. Shock to the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the longer release.  
> I had a chapter 3 written some time ago, but didn't like where it put the story. It didn't mesh well.  
> So, I had to rewrite it and the beginning of chapter 4, but I like where this is headed better.
> 
> Thank you for your patience.

Edward spent the better part of his next three days attempting to keep the Riddler back at every opportunity. He couldn’t let his guard slip for a moment, or else _he_ would take over and do something Ed would regret. Even when he went to get the suit Oswald got for him tailored. Even during his daily chores. Even during his working hours, he did his best to stay focused on each case. Though the longer his day went, the more he accidentally snapped at people, parts of his more Riddler-side aggression leaking through. They were such stupid questions though...

By the fourth day he was getting tired. The constant strain, fighting with his other half who, in his current state, didn’t need the same physical upkeep that he did. If they switched, Riddler would have to work on undoing the physical tiredness Ed had caused, but it was nothing he hadn’t operated under before. Riddler was a professional at this point. End of day four and he could see Ed cracking, he could see his ‘better’ half slumping in his chair, eyes narrowed at the book in front of him on the table. 

_“You can’t keep this up. You can’t possibly out wait me. You are going to falter. You **will** end up letting me out.”_ Riddler claimed, smug as ever, circling Ed like a vulture around the small dining table. _“You’re going to let me out, Eddie, I won’t do any real harm. You’ll still be in one piece when you get back.”_ He informed Ed as though this was soothing news. As though it would convince him to change his mind on keeping Riddler sealed away.

“No! I know what you’re going to try and do. It’s not going to work, Oswald is smarter than that.” Ed claimed, having some satisfaction that it didn’t seem like he could be charmed, so at least he wouldn’t have to wake up to the nightclub owner beside him at any point without real warning. Some people had hazy nights they couldn’t remember taking anyone home for, some had personalities that forced them back so much they physically couldn’t remember anything until allowed or informed. “You’re not getting out.”

_“You say that like this is the first time I’ve gone out without asking.”_ Riddler’s grin stretched across his mouth, enjoying when he could blindside Ed with a bit of fun he wasn’t allowed to remember. _“Do you forget, Eddie? I. Don’t. Need. You. You need me.”_ Riddler made sure that was clear, leaning forward, hand over Ed’s book with a maniacal laugh, knowing he had the upper hand. He always did.

Ed pulled his book out from under the non-existent hand, focusing on the words a little more, hardly reading now, more absorbing just how the ink faded in certain spots of certain letters. “I don’t need you either!” He claimed, shouting at the personality across his table from him, getting upset from the situation. “I’ve never needed you! And I’ll continue to not need you! You are… you are a mental mistake! You are treatable! You are a disorder!” Ed’s voice raised from a shout to a scream, feeling his head begin to split again in pain. He winced, hand clutching at one side of his head through his hair. 

_“You truly believe that, don’t you?”_ Riddler leaned back from the table, standing up straight and connecting his hands behind his back. He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t worried. If anything, the personality still looked to be on top of the world. And enjoying how the planet felt underneath his shoes. _“How deluded you must really be, Eddie. How sad and pathetic you sound. You’re talking to NO ONE! If I’m such a disorder, if you don’t need me, why is it that you’re so dependant on me? Why do you rely on me for what you can’t handle? YOU NEED ME! ADMIT IT!”_ Riddler’s words went from a condescending attack to a complete shouting fit, demanding Ed meet his perspective. Even as the demon clutched at his head, wanting the migraine to cease. _“I’M EVERYTHING YOU CAN’T BE! I’M EVERYTHING YOU LACK! You would be lost without me! You would’ve starved to death decades ago! You would’ve been a shrivelled husk in the woods if not for me keeping us alive!”_ Riddler’s fist met the table, Ed able to hear the sound of the impact though it was closer than he realized. He opened his eyes to see it was his own hand that hit the wood surface and Riddler was gone.

Still, Ed’s head ached. It strained to keep up with the two large personalities within it, struggling to find balance between so much logistical thinking and so much emotional reaction. The Incubus stayed quiet for a long time, head on the book in front of him still, groaning at the sensation like his skull had a hand powered jack inside. And there would be Riddler, pumping the handle, shoving two areas of his skull apart from each other.

He took his glasses off with a heavy breath, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He could get a shower, go to bed, try to sleep off the aching. He needed rest regardless, he had to stay in as high of a form as he could in order to prevent Riddler from taking off with their body. If he was taken care of, he was strong. If he was strong, he didn’t need to worry about losing control.

_“Or do you?”_

Ed’s head snapped up, hands leaving his face as he looked around for the familiar figure. It wasn’t there, however, just… noises. He’d blame it on the wind, he didn’t need to think of _him_ in this moment. 

Riddler could tell that Ed was close to breaking. It no longer took much effort to make him snap. A little push here, and a tug there. He would have Ed so broken he could take over for at least a few days, if not a week. Then it would be his turn. Then he would see just how _smart_ this Oswald could be. He may have somehow avoided his charm, but it was no doubt some fluke. Cheating. Not following the rules. If that was how Oswald was going to play ball, then he would need to reinvent the game. Structure new rules.

By the end of day five, Ed was hanging up his jacket to leave the Gotham police department morgue when he was interrupted by an officer carrying in a box of paper recorded evidence, a current case needing comparable items for a match. 

“Any place special I should put this?” He questioned, looking around the cleanly lab. Nygma was always odd with how he kept things just so. Everything had a special spot and if it wasn’t that one thing’s special spot, it was wrong. What an anal guy, couldn’t let anything slide. It was safer to ask and not get stuck in some lecture.

“Over on the other table will do.” Ed put his coat on a hanger, then with his hand on the doorknob he could hear a dull hit, an ‘oh shit, then the spill of papers on the floor. Hand still holding onto the doorknob, his forehead fell forward with a groan. “I hope you’ve developed quite the penchant for replicating noises with your mouth, officer.”

“Sorry, guess I wasn’t really lookin’.” 

“No, ‘I guess’ you weren’t.” Ed’s tone escalated to sharp, eyes cutting into the officer’s back as the man stared down at the mess.

“Look, I gotta a lot of work to get back to, d’ya mind…?”

He couldn’t believe it. First he can’t maintain an ability to simply put a box on a table and immediately expects him to clean it up. “Dolt.” He huffed under his breath, moving towards the mess.

“What’d ya say?” The officer didn’t catch it, but he saw the forensics man say something.

“Don’t mind at all.” Ed gave the man a fake smile that stretched the full length of his mouth, playing up to the usual Ed standard people expected. Easy going, ready to please, pushover Ed. Infuriating idiots. All of them. And he was surrounded by it… “You go ahead, I’ll have this fixed in a jiffy.” He covered, giving the man an ‘okay’ symbol with his hand, the rest of his fingers standing straight up. 

Parts of him were slipping. Other traits were showing through. He was tired, his head was an on and off switch between a jackhammer or a peaceful field. Unfortunately peace didn’t last too long before he was splitting at the skull again. At that moment he could feel a headache start behind his eyes, but he’d get over it. First, to clean up this mess.

The officer gave a grin, patting Ed on the back before heading to the door. “Alright, thanks Nygma. You’re all right.” He gave his seal of approval, disappearing from sight and from mind.

It was quiet for three long moments before Ed broke. “Idiot. Waste of skin. Mouth breather. Ham fisted neanderthal.” The few papers Ed bent down to begin sorting were tossed back onto the floor, fingers slipping beneath his glasses to rub at his eyes as he tried to imagine the headache away. It wasn’t a migraine yet, so he’d live through it. 

He’d live through it regardless, though he’d live through an easier day without it. 

One quick sorting session and he would be on his way home. It would be simple, fast. Halfway through reorganizing the stack of what was no doubt an inefficient system of papers before he made it thousands of times better, a woman stuck her head in the door. 

“Edward? You have a call on line 4.” She stated simply before slipping out, on her way to deliver folders to a case meeting. She could’ve called, but she was walking by regardless. If someone had to wait a couple extra minutes, that was fine for her. It was a personal call, it wasn’t rushed business.

She left before Ed could address her statement, glancing to the remaining papers on the floor then back at the phone. Who would call him at work? Other than officers in the building, but they simply came down to visit him. To call him… possibly Blüdhaven’s department looking for information. 

Edward selected his line, answering the phone with a curious tone. “Hello?” 

“Ed, finally. That woman assured me it’d only be a moment, and it has been an exceedingly long moment. She should be fired.” A pointed tone came into his ear, the voice instantly recognizable. 

“Oswald? Why are you calling me here? Is there something going on?” Ed questioned quickly, thinking it would’ve been something of an emergency if he was getting a call at work. There would be no other reason for Oswald to be seeking him at this point in time. There was the chance he needed him to take care of business sooner than first thought.

Oswald paused for a moment, going silent on his end enough that Ed was unsure if he simply stepped away. “Am I not allowed to call you?”

What? 

_“Well isn’t that interesting?”_ Riddler grinned, strolling about the room in his usual green suit and bowler, despite Ed’s work outfit of a button-up collared shirt under his sweater. _“I think he’s fond of you.”_

“Edward?”

Ed rolled his eyes, realizing that he was now the one who was silent for some time. “I’m sorry, someone just… stopped by. You are allowed to call, of course. It’s unexpected, is all.” He explained himself, noting Riddler’s blurred figure out of the corner of his eye. 

“I am a master of surprises, I must say.” The man sounded proud of himself, happy about his accomplishments. “I wished to invite you to an event tonight, if you have the time. A mix of business and pleasure, I might add.” 

_“Forward, isn’t he?”_ Riddler teased, crossing his arms as he stood in front of Ed, hearing everything through his other half without being near the phone. 

Ed’s glare said everything he thought, holding back any words he had for Riddler. “You… want to invite me? I’m not exactly a high profile client or celebrity for a nightclub event.” He reminded his business partner, not understanding why he would be invited even for the portion that they would be around the nightclub owner.

“You are quite important to my operations, and therefore me, Edward. I wish for you to be at my side for this.” Oswald made his desires clear, stating each thought as though it were obvious. “Now, may I count on your attendance tonight? The club opens at 10, but come early if you wish.” The man left that part of the invitation open. 

Ed had to think for a long moment as Riddler watched him carefully. _“You should go, have fun. We seem to be the only overly intelligent company he has last we met his goons. He’s likely looking for some… conversation.”_ Riddler suggested to his other half with a grin, suggesting something further than Ed would like to think.

“I’ll take it into consideration, there are several things of my own I’ve yet to do tonight. If I finish my business in time… perhaps I’ll come by.” Ed’s answer was open, if not unnecessarily vague.

“I see. If you do find yourself free from your menial chores, do feel compelled to stop by. I’ll keep a spot open for you.” Oswald’s tone shifted, but was still inviting. Ed attempting to determine what the voice meant before the line was cut, phone hung up on Oswald’s end.

_“Eddie, you’re supposed to be the emotionally in tune one. I think you hurt his feelings.”_

Ed shook his head, hanging up the phone to finish his work with the files that had been left abandoned on the floor. “Why is he inviting me? Surely he has more important business clientele he could have at his side.” He spoke aloud, attempting to figure out Oswald’s goal.

_“Perhaps it’s a trap? Or perhaps it’s a power move.”_ Riddler deduced, offering options to his other half now crouched again at the floor. _“It seems there are two more likely options for this scenario. One concludes that Oswald has deduced a way to kill us and wishes to make a spectacle of this. Showing others in the city how to kill a demon would certainly show a force he’s capable of beyond any regular man. Therefore gaining a mixture of fear and respect from his peers and enemies. Though I doubt he could translate any of the texts that speak of those topics. He’s really only… crafty.”_

“I’m sorry, was that almost a compliment to his intelligence?”

Riddler rolled his eyes with an annoyed curl of his upper lip. _“Please. Being resourceful or being intermediately competent in schemes does not mean he’s smart. I am smart. I am incomparably brilliant. You are… above average at best. Still, Oswald doesn’t seem incredibly stupid.”_ He commented, clearing the air of any possible positive points he may have let slip. _“As I was saying, the other possibly likely scenario is that he is attempting to show us what he has.”_

“Elaborate.” Ed requested, finishing with the files on the floor, picking them up and taking them with him to the box on the table to have them put away as they once were. This time, however, they were filed under what was no doubt a more smooth running system. 

_“Of course, I was going to regardless in order to get something through that dim witted head of yours. Oswald is quite ready to feed us his enemies, use our power to rid him of his problems in exchange for taking care of our basic feeding needs. What if this invitation is his way of introducing us to his allies to make a statement. We are the one to rid him of competition. Oswald could possibly introduce us to his other business partners to say ‘This is the man who took the will to live out of Tony the Troublesome. He’s why Tony is no longer with us today. It will put Oswald in quite the shining light, as well as tell the others of his circle that we are not to be trifled with.”_ Riddler made clear to Ed, considering either side of the situation.

“So we truly have no fears in either outcome.”

_“If anything, we become the star.”_ Riddler smiled, his arms outstretched with his hands rotating to gesture to himself. He adored getting the spotlight, and when Oswald couldn’t do anything about them, this was free publicity. _“We can argue about this, Eddie. Or you can allow me to go.”_ He was drawn in by the idea, having no issue with making an appearance when there was no downside. Instead he would have all eyes on him either way, Oswald could either glorify their skills or he could fail in killing them. Win-win.

Even if they were shot again, they bled. They could play dead. It would be simple to act as a corpse, framing Oswald as someone who killed a man point blank in front of others. So long as he made it to someone innocent to dramatically say the name of his killer before dying in his charade, it was a dead ringer.

Ed finished organizing the box, stacking the last of the papers inside. “If I don’t agree you’ll force your hand regardless and cause me more issue than need be.” He summarized, letting go of a long sigh. “Fine, we go.”

_“We?”_

“You may lead, but I expect not to be locked out this time.”

_“We’ll see.”_

 

Ed let go of his control that night, knowing the club scene filled with rather large members of the underground syndicate wouldn’t be the place where he could make the most friends. They needed someone of their own mindset, someone who could better blend in to a rather seedy crowd instead of awkwardly attempting to convince them he was one of their own. Riddler was made for a criminal-like group so this was something safer for him to handle.

Riddler put on the suit Oswald had bought for them, the soft garments now fitting perfectly thanks to the tailoring his new business partner had provided. If it was an event, he no doubt should look his best. Any excuse to get dolled up was one Riddler took advantage of quite quickly.

He arrived on time at 10pm, hair slicked back and suit laying just as it should over his body. The demon strolled up to the club, announcing his arrival to the man at the door who spoke into a mic attached to his ear. It took a moment, but Riddler was allowed in, walking beyond the line of people dressed well at the door. Not as well as him, but they made an attempt. 

He made it fifteen feet into the club’s main area, seeing tables set up around the perimeter and the bar dressed with many fancy drinks on platters waiting to be carried through the crowd by waiters. People already had the floor nearly full, however, it was slightly smaller bodies that caught his eye. Children…? In a club? Why were they in there? That didn’t make legal sense, they shouldn’t be allowed in the building during business hours… What was this?

Riddler turned slightly, doing what he could to avoid where the children were. Some already fast asleep in the arms of adults, others off at booths coloring or doing mind numbingly simple puzzles, older ones were standing about the floor to speak with adults. This had to have been the wrong invitation. Where were the unsavory older men looking to bump off an issue for a few thousand dollars? The blackmail, the extortion, the… petty theft at least.

Two children ran past him, one bumping into Riddler’s legs while the other avoided him, chasing each other about the room. 

_“Now this was truly unexpected. You didn’t guess this in your master plan of possibilities, Mr. Smarty-Pants.”_ Ed commented from the sidelines of Riddler’s mind, looking at the mix of ages that filled the club. 

“Shut up.” Riddler scowled, voice low as he did his best to continue on, glaring after the children who ran into him.

“Edward!” 

A familiar call of his other half’s name had Riddler’s eyes meeting Oswald’s as the nightclub owner limped over, shaking a couple hands along the way. “Eddie, take over.”

_“You know. I’m not sure I really feel like it. I could use a nap. It’s been a long week.”_ Ed stretched in his daily outfit, Riddler not having imagined the suit on the other piece of his mind. Ed’s collared shirt tucked into his pants keeping his stomach from exposing even as he stretched upwards with his sweater vest parting from the waist of his slacks. _“Have fun. This is an exponentially more cruel punishment than even I would’ve thought for you. So it’s perfect.”_ Ed chuckled in a carefree way, disappearing from Riddler’s sight when someone walked between the two.

“Eddie! No… Eddie, you come back here, right this-” Riddler’s whispered growlings were cut off when Oswald got too close, the man eyeing over his newer business partner in the suit. 

“I see the fitting went well, I do say Gunther does astounding work.” He complimented with a smile, eyes meeting Riddler’s again and seeming quite happy with himself. “Welcome, Ed, to tonight’s affairs. I’ve decided to fund one of Gotham’s orphanages as a new branch of my legal sector and add some light on me that the public can drink in. As I am quite the giving, charity supporting type.” Oswald was almost not looking like himself that night. If Riddler wasn’t sure of it, he could say the man also held another personality. Though he didn’t believe that to be the case. It was only a publicity facade. 

“I will admit, I didn’t… quite expect this to be the event.” The demon admitted with a heavy breath, noting the set of children who must’ve been in their early teens walking by with cheerful laughter across their faces. How charming… 

Oswald nodded, both hands on the handle of his cane, leaning on it for support while his smile remained strong. “Yes, well. I considered something you said on our last meeting, how you didn’t know your birth parents and it reminded me how there are a large number of children in Gotham who either do not know, or whose parents died while they were young.” He began, gesturing with a hand through the crowd. “So I decided to invest into this venture and their future, to brighten my own. No doubt it will pay off at a point when I need public sympathy.” Oswald was quite proud of the plan, looking back to Riddler in such a content way. “And I have _you_ to thank for the suggestion.” The man placed a finger on the demon’s lapel, emphasising how Ed had inspired him. 

“I am… so glad that I could be of assistance with this.” His smile was strained, but he attempted to return it, hearing Ed’s laughter in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. He didn’t need some _‘I told you so’_ from the other one now, he’d get through this.

“Being as you know the situation these children are in currently. Both in being an orphan and losing your… adoptive parents young, it seemed like you could be a perfect guest. You were taken in by a new parent at a point, raised and kept well in that environment, it could give them a hope to look forward to. Even if the details of such are somewhat blurred or forgotten, shall we say.” 

Business and pleasure. The business was for him to mingle about the crowd, talking well of Oswald and this venture, to share his feelings about his experience in likely vague detail in order to show that Oswald knew people like this in life. To show his compassion to his known contacts as well as those currently in those situations.

Riddler attempted to reach out for Ed, but the other refused to respond. This was worse than he thought. This wasn’t entirely beyond him, but he wasn’t… well suited for emotional support. This was an event solely based on feeling, emotion, and mutual experience. And he was garbage at trying to copy Ed’s ability to feel and relate. He didn’t have that empathy. He had to fake it, there was no other choice. 

He had to do it though. If he was going to get Oswald’s attention more on them and earn the man’s interest… this had to go well. No doubt Ed was counting on him to blow it, so he would win this wager they never placed. He would make this work.

“You can rely on me, Oswald.” Riddler promised, though the unsure feeling settling in his stomach told him there were to be several expected disasters to happen at one point or another.

“I knew that I could. Now, come. I want to introduce you to several people, then we can retire to our own booth if you wish to have space.” Oswald took care of everything, as the gracious host he was usually was. He let Riddler meet the head of the orphanage, the council people that were out for publicity, and a couple political leaders who also supported the orphanage and therefore, Oswald’s investment. 

By the end of meeting the half dozen people, needing to recite his sympathetic story several times over with a reflection of fake emotion for the ones of power he told it to, Riddler was reaching the end of his rope. His patience worn thin, he didn’t want to be Ed. Ed was weak on every level possible. Weaker than him and he hated showing weakness. He wished to be himself. If someone told him the plight of an orphan he wished to say that they should have tortured their oppressor. Unfortunately, suggesting a child learn brutal torture tactics was, for some reason, socially unacceptable.

Riddler was glad for the moment they were done and could sit away from most of the crowds, using the time to compose himself again. 

“I’m glad you came, Ed. There are only so many pompous benefactors you can talk to before you feel like putting a salad fork in a man’s eye.” Oswald spoke openly with the demon, glad for the company at the party he was throwing for show. He loved a good soiree but there was simply no acting on his impulses when he had to keep a good face. And that meant not treating a man’s ocular organ like a piece of romaine.

Riddler grinned slightly, the first genuine reaction he had in the last couple hours. “Though uncouth, and attention drawing, I would be interested to see your technique with that.” Even the simple conversation was a well received escape from the weight of the party.

Oswald drummed his fingers on their table, watching the crowd carefully. “If the Director of Communications prattles on about his child’s honor roll again, you may see it yet.” He promised Ed, having heard enough about that one child for a lifetime. At least Oswald had a name and school if he wished to plan a kidnapping and extortion. He’d see about it. Even with a nearing graduation, certain schools lead into others, it wouldn’t be difficult to track the child down to their high school.

“Should I have your fork on the ready?” Riddler posed the question, picking up a small fork from the table on the outside of the place setting, holding it up under the dim lights.

“Please do.”

The Director of Communications came over to their table, needing to discuss business with Oswald in private. The club owner promised Ed he’d return shortly, leaning in to ask that the fork be kept nearby in case it was needed.

Riddler showed Oswald the utensil slipping into his pocket, returning his eyes forward to watch the crowd as he waited for his business partner’s return. 

_“I didn’t know you could take commands so well, look at you waiting like a good boy.”_ Ed appeared beside his more cruel half, leaning back in the booth with his hands folded together on the table.

“I am not some sort of dog to him, if that’s what you’re implying. He is the only person of intelligence to talk to here and that is all.”

_“Yet you still came to the party. And have stayed at it despite your internal whining.”_

“I thought there’d be a criminal get-together, obviously. Unless I’d been studying Oz’s records there’d be little way f-”

_“Oz, huh?”_ Ed’s smile said everything, egging Riddler on as he took the stronger playing field as he rarely got to do. _“Look, cowboy, this is your rodeo. If you like him, go ahead and let it all happen naturally. I’ll even give you some pointers, we’ll fill that confession with feeling.”_ Ed’s hands fanned out at the word ‘feeling’, his smile wide as he obviously was having fun with his teasings.

The demon clenched his jaw, fists tightening on the surface of the table. He couldn’t shout at Ed like he desired to, there were too many people to make that kind of a ruckus. “Pointers from you? Hah. Tell me, Eddie, just how many successful relationships or charms have you landed?” His voice was in a harsh whisper, though low to a human ear his inner kept personality had no issue hearing him. 

_“Owch, I’m hurt.”_ Ed feigned, pouting at Riddler before bursting into laughter. _“Why don’t you just tell him how you **feel** , Casanova? I’m sure it’ll go splendidly.”_

“Oh, I’ll tell him something.” Riddler slammed his palms onto the table, leaving on the opposite side of Ed, making his way to Oswald’s office. He didn’t care if it was a meeting. He didn’t care at all. People who cared were people that felt. And he didn’t feel. He wasn’t even people! So this would be a snap.

The demon stormed his way through the crowd, bumping shoulders with several of the guests as he got to the back corner of the club, throwing a door open with a scowl. “Oswald!” 

A gunshot fired, stirring the crowd in the club, many of them fleeing towards the exit as there was no music on like nearly a week ago to mask the sound. An open door and relaxing elevator level of ambiance music did not disguise a bullet well.

Riddler stood still, feeling his glasses lean on his face, a hot trail leading from his temple to the back of his head. The bullet just catching the tip of his ear, breaking the arm of his glasses in the process. “Alright! That is the last straw!” He yelled, getting into the room, slamming the door closed behind him, causing his glasses to fall off with the motion of his arm. Riddler bent the door knobs out of shape until they refused to turn, locking them all inside.

A muffled yell caught Riddler’s attention as the person who shot him hesitated, the Incubus able to make out most of Oswald’s form even without his glasses. “Ridiculous mid-realm.” He fumed, moving forward as the man pointed his gun at Riddler to finish the job. He turned on his charm, chest crackling intensely with his rage feeding the fire. “You don’t want to do that, now do you?” He questioned the larger man, rotund and plump like a heffer. A man that seemed familiar, despite his loss of perfect vision. The Director of Communications seemed to be more criminal than first suspected, perhaps he’d get his underground evening after all. 

“I… no… I don’t… not to you…” The man answered, Oswald’s head snapping to observe his attacker, the closer Riddler got made it easier for him to see how tied up the club owner was, gagged silent in his capture.

“Why don’t you turn that thing on yourself? Take out a kneecap. I’d love it if you did.” Riddler purred, looking to torture the man impeding his words to Oswald. 

“You would?”

“I would.”

The man didn’t take another moment, turning the gun towards his leg to shoot himself in the knee. The pain that erupted broke eye contact and had the man yelling, falling onto the floor and faltered the bond of the charm. Oswald’s eyes taking in the situation that, if he didn’t have the information he did, would be entirely out of the ordinary. With just a stare Ed had the Director shooting himself to please him, and this… made things much more interesting when he knew possible outcomes. He supposed this is what Ed was trying to do the night they met.

The more inflated Director clutched at his knee with one hand, gun in the other, calling out in pain as Riddler walked closer to the pair both on the floor. His eyes glanced to his business partner, crouching beside the club owner. “That’s a good look for you, Oz. Bold, unique.” He chuckled, able to make out the eyeroll he got in return. The bound man’s tensing and widened eyes warned him of something else behind him, Riddler pushing himself to the side to avoid the oncoming danger he couldn’t witness.

Unfortunately for Oswald, that put him in the way of an overweight man swinging a familiar cane, hitting him strongly in the forehead and knocking the club owner out cold. Oswald falling back onto the floor while the Director of Communications slumped on the floor, groaning with grit teeth at Oz’s legs.

“You’ve somehow managed to do me a favor in your idiotic stumblings. How thoughtful.” Riddler grinned at the unconscious man, leaning over to take the Director’s chin on his fingers, forcing him to lock eyes. He turned up his charm, smiling at the older, overweight man. “Now that you’ve made me so happy, finish yourself off. I don’t need you anymore.” He told the man with cheer, watching as the Director raised the gun to his head and pulled the trigger, painting the desk behind them with brain matter and blood. “Hm. What a mess.”

Riddler’s focus turned onto the unconscious Oswald, feeling rather excited. He could prove to Ed in this moment that he had no attachment to the man. He’d essentially kill him. Eat Oswald’s soul and leave him to also kill himself. It would seem like a murder suicide, and he would process the bodies to destroy the evidence of himself anywhere around the two when the GCPD brought them in. It would be a neatly wrapped package. 

Even as Riddler bent over Oswald, taking the gag out of the club owner’s mouth, he could feel Ed’s eyes on him. “I know your maw is open, so I suggest you close it.” He told his better half over his shoulder. Using a thumb on Oswald’s chin to prop his lips better apart, he leaned forward to close the gap between them, rolling his eyes when Ed made an encouraging whistle from somewhere in the room.

The simple lip lock didn’t last for long, Riddler inhaling into the kiss to take Oswald’s soul from him. The demon got a taste of the bitter soul on his tongue, drinking in how deeply disturbed Oswald was before it felt like his tongue was caught in a beartrap, making the Incubus fall back in pain. 

_“What’s wrong, change of heart?”_ Ed questioned with a grin before he felt something was wrong. Knowing their body was injured without being able to see Riddler’s face. 

Riddler clutched at his mouth, expression twisted into a grimace as he felt a liquid pool around his tongue. Great. More blood… he couldn’t hide that from crime scene, they’d take a sample and he’d be identified. He squeezed a finger between his lips, touching it with his tongue and the warm liquid. Taking it back confirmed a fear he never knew that he had until that moment. An thick, blackened blue, tar-like liquid running down his finger to his hand as it followed the natural curve of the digit.

_“What is… is that ours? What did he do? What is that?”_ Neither have ever encountered a scenario where they’d seen their demon blood. Nothing ever escaped except for the false liquid his body poured in human form when hurt. This was… 

“This is…” Riddler made the mistake of trying to speak, the thick substance pouring down his chin and onto his chest. “This is our blood. He… he hurt us… somehow.” This made the Incubus overly cautious, backing up from Oswald on the floor. Riddler stood up, taking a moment to recompose himself. He needed a plan, this was nothing he was prepared to suspect.

_“We need our books.”_

“For once, agreed.” Riddler considered his options, picking up Oswald to take with them. “We may need him for further investigation, something is wrong with him. We can’t charm him. We can’t feed off of him. ...He’s a risk to us, especially if we have no logic behind why is is like he is.” Riddler couldn’t let such a loose end like Oswald roam the city. Not when he could hurt them like he could. 

_“Looks like you’re taking him home after all. Wonderful.”_


	4. A Walk Down Memory Ln.

Oswald woke to a mumbling voice, vision blurred as he came to, feeling his head splitting from the front. He was no longer in his office, that was quickly clear, the colors were all off. No longer surrounded by warm wood tones, they were more cool metal and brick. He groaned, moving a hand to touch his head only to flinch at contact with his forehead. The goose egg felt obvious, beginning to clear his sight with a set of blinks, noting his place on a… bed. If it could even be called such. More like a cotton-wrapped board.

“He is up.” 

Oswald focused on the figure across the room, letting the voice sink in. “Edward…? What am I doing here? Where is… here?”

“I assume concussion to some degree. Possibly.” He wasn’t a medical doctor, he knew what killed people, not what was currently wrong. He could inspect a corpse, but inspecting a body was difficult when people wouldn’t let you open them up for a quick peek.

“...What? I am asking where am I. Are you deaf?”

The figure went silent, Oswald blinking the other figure into clarity to see Ed in half his suit. Jacket and vest gone, but slacks and shirt in place, tie opened but still around his neck, a blackened puddle on his chest and a stain on his chin from something that had been wiped away already.

“You, Oswald, are in my apartment. I took you here after that man attacked you. In case he had anyone waiting to be sure he finished whatever he was trying to accomplish.”

“And… what are you covered in? Ink?” Oswald had a fountain well on his desk, was it knocked over in the fight? Even still, it got on his face that much?

Ed paused for a long moment, papers in hand. “It’s… blood, actually. My natural blood.” He informed the other, Riddler now long since gone back into Ed’s mind to reconsider everything that had happened.

“You actually do bleed? You’re capable of that?” The surprise in Oswald’s tone was genuine, though the man did his best to reel it back in to stay on top of the situation.

“As I found out, yes.”

“And how is it that you found this out? I highly doubt that man was capable of injuring you.”

Ed paused, unsure of how to break the news easily. “I… may have…” How to best explain it… “May I tell you a secret?”

Oswald gingerly touched his fingertips to his forehead again, taking in the lump left behind by the tussel. “Seeing as you may have saved my life… I think it fair trade I can keep a secret.” He agreed, feeling as though leaving wasn’t entirely an option. Therefore he should make nice with his kidnapper and wait for his opportunity to leave.

Ed spoke quickly as he came out with his admittance, trying to get through it like tearing off a bandaid. His eyes squeezed shut, words falling at a terminal velocity from his mouth. “So… I, but not me, may have attempted to take your soul.” 

“Edward.” The fiend’s name spoken like a dog found soiling the carpet, broken into two syllables very clearly.

“I know but it wasn’t me. I just may have done it.”

Oswald stared at Ed for a long few seconds, trying to wrap his sore noggin around this wording. “If this is another one of your riddles… I must say that I am not in a place mentally to put the brain cells into solving it.” He sighed heavily, letting his hand fall to his lap with his eyes locked on Ed with some annoyance.

“I know this sounds odd… Let me get you ice.” Ed offered index fingers up to suggest Oswald wait, skittering off to the freezer portion of his fridge, taking out ice to put in a bag, wrapping it in a hand towel before delivering it to Oswald on his bed. “I am not one Ed. I’m two. And my other half attempted to take your soul in order to prove a point, but… whatever it is about you prevented him from taking it. Does this make sense so far?”

Oswald took the ice, pressing the towel wrapped bag into his forehead with a sigh of relief. The initial contact sting soothed by the refreshing pressure of the ice bag. “Yes, continue.”

“It is?”

“Edward. You’re some kind of fiend from another realm, and I shot you several times to no avail. If there are two of you this is possibly the least odd thing I’ve either seen or heard from you. I suppose it’s fair that I shot you, you tried to take my soul.” Honestly, multiple personalities made more sense to him than the fact that Ed was some mythical creature from a hellscape somewhere else. “So can we call each other even?”

Ed turned to glance off towards the windows, staring at something before nodding. “He says you’re even.” 

“Fantastic.” Oswald’s tired voice covering what contentment was in his words. “Now, who’s _‘he’_ , Ed?” He really didn’t have the brain power at the time to figure out a pronoun game.

“He likes to call himself… The Riddler.”

“Now you must be joking.” Oswald looked as though he was becoming impatient, eyes on Ed from under the ice pack. “The Riddler… Fine. Ed and Riddler. How do I tell you apart?” 

Ed did have an easier answer for that, smiling a bit when it came to Oswald taking this new secret so well. “Well, I am Ed or Edward. More emotion, feeling, spontaneous murder is usually my issue.” He introduced himself. “My other side, Riddler, he’s more ruthless, calculating, pre-meditated murder to a layered degree.” 

“I see.” Oswald had to think about who he’d met and when. “So, last night was Riddler, start to finish.” Ruthless seemed to fit a person who was ready to supply him with a murder fork. “Hm. Well, I suppose I can handle that. It may take an adjustment period of identifying you… both, but I’ve experienced stranger things.” He was suspicious, but he’d stay wary. Believing or not, he wouldn’t be surprised if he maintained a healthy level of both. What Ed told him did seem true from his descriptions.

“Then I need information from you.”

“And how can I be of service?”

Ed jumped up from the bed, going over to books on the table to bring them to Oswald’s side. The fiend was quite excited about the chance to explore something he didn’t know. “Do you happen to be a high-class demon? Or of fiend heritage?”

The theme of the two questions being asked felt ridiculous at best, the man holding the ice pack a little more against his head as he leaned into it. “Ed… what are these questions?”

“Entertain me, I need to understand why we can’t charm you and how you made us bleed.” Ed adored information, and this was something he had no experience with. This was something he needed to understand. 

“No, Ed. To my knowledge I am not any sort of creature like yourself.” 

“As to cover the other side of the spectrum, are you any sort of highly regarded saint or holy being?” Ed was going down a list, checking with Oswald visually and noting the dead stare he was given in return. “Stupid question, got it. Next, are you from South American or South African family tree? Or are from a Central, Western, or Eastern European lineage of a large degree?” 

That question somewhat surprised Oswald with how normal it seemed compared to others. His head perking upwards at the familiar sounding words in an organic reaction. “Yes, actually.”

“Oh, where do you or your family hail from?”

“Central Europe, as I believe. My… my mother was Hungarian.” He answered quickly, having that information for certain in his mind.

Ed went down a list provided, tracing his finger until he hit what he was looking for. “Hungary, there it is.” He began flipping through pages of his translated photocopies, going to the paragraphs he needed. “Ah, and there is the devil in these details! You’re protected by a hex!” He smiled, declaring it to Oswald, showing him the page. He was like a child presenting his newest crayon masterpiece with pride. “Well, let me clarify, to your people it’d be a charm or protection spell, but to my kind it’d be a hex.”

“So…” This was becoming a literal pain for the man to consider. “You’re telling me that you can’t use your… hypnotism or your soul consumption on me… because I have some magic spell on me?” This was one more thing to add to the list of facts he didn’t know existed until then. “How does one get this… hex?” It was easier to approach from Ed’s side of understanding, therefore it’d be called a hex in order to show his choosing to be on the demon’s side.

“I would assume a family member had it placed on you as a newborn or child. Hungary is rich in mythology and fairy tales, from what I’m reading. Well, what one may consider fairy tales. These creatures are real, though they are rare.” Ed informed Oswald as his eyes skimmed over the information greedily. “You must’ve displayed several traits as a newborn that would have been appealing to fairies. My kind like to make deals with them to steal human newborns. A fairy will approach a newborn and charm it in order to keep it quiet during the kidnapping process.” 

Oswald took a moment to process the information, staring at Ed curiously. “Your kind of fiends steal children?” He felt like he now knew what it was to be knocked out of reality only to wake up kidnapped. Horray…! He got the experience regardless.

“Newborns. And not us, fairies do the direct stealing. We just need them stolen.”

“Regardless.”

“Yes. A pregnant fiend of my species will often create a deal with a family of fairies in order to give the newborn fiend a family to feed from until they are three-years-old. Then they retrieve the child and raise it from that point on.” Ed continued to teach Oz about his history, things he’d learned from the pages of his borrowed texts and fiends of his species he’d run into over the years. “Fairies have a preference for certain attributes in newborns and will steal ones they prefer to make room for the newborn fiend. They keep the child, the fiend newborn takes its place. Humans believe they still have their child for a number of years and temporarily everyone is happy.” Though it never stayed happy for too long. 

Ed continued to share what he knew of the situation. “Fairies will often take apart the human newborn stolen, removing the soul, the eyes, hair, nails, whatever they find appealing to use for their nests. They are a nasty little creature, brilliantly ruthless scavengers. They don’t let anything go to waste.” He closed his binder, eyes meeting Oswald’s. “I could see why a family member would want to have you protected. Fairies have a natural draw towards light colored eyes, if they were a moth your eyes would be the proverbial flame.” 

The man swallowed heavily, looking away from Ed while he kept the ice pack flush to his skin. “Yes, well. It’s common in the family.” He brushed off the comment, not used to a feature of his being highlighted in positive ways. Normally it was his walk, his leg, his nose. Things that would be seen as possibly negative features. Features used for others’ humor. 

“Are those… freckles?” Ed questioned with a long grin, leaning closer to the human on his bed.

“Are you attempting to study me now?” Oswald questioned, backing off a bit from Ed, scooting himself back towards the metal frame of a headboard.

“Yes.”

“Well I insist you desist.” The man defended himself, an arm crossed over his torso to close off conversation in his body language.

“They are freckles.” Ed admired with curiosity. “I’ve never noticed before, then again, I’ve rarely gotten to focus on your face in proper lighting. It is a good thing you were protected as a newborn, you would have been a prime target for newborn nabbing creatures.” He spoke, getting up from the bed to put his research away. He had his answer, so now he could relax.

Oswald was from a highly believing family, he wasn’t another creature or something to worry about. This is likely something that has happened for generations in his family tree. It gave Ed piece of mind, putting away the binders and books he’d taken out of their places in order to research possibilities for Oswald’s intolerance to his abilities. 

“What happened when you tried to take my soul?”

Ed had to think about it, the experience was not directly his so he wasn’t entirely certain how to describe it than the off feeling he had and the second-hand situation. “Are you paying attention?” He asked aloud, eyes going to several different spots in the room. “Would you mind?”

 _“Must I?”_ Riddler was sat in a chair not far from Ed, gussied up to be much tidier than Ed’s appearance, his full suit still on though the stain on Ed’s chest was still reflected on his own and the stain held in his skin.

“It would be helpful. I know it happened, you experienced it.” 

Oswald lowered the ice pack, watching the one-sided conversation happen between the fiend and the chair. This was… a bizarre situation, but if there was two of them, it was best to be on both of their good sides. He’d play along, best case scenario he would be covered.

_“I don’t like him…”_

“You don’t like you can’t influence him. There’s a difference.” Ed clarified, his hands becoming more animated as he spoke. “Are you going to help, or not?”

_“Fine.”_

Oswald didn’t know what he was looking for in the exchange, in this… switch? If it could be called. He observed closely, always interested in an opportunity of learning. This could give him an advantage in certain situations, if he learned, he could survive. If he learned more about this… Riddler, it could keep him alive longer. Get on his favored side. Gain connection with him, as Ed already seemed to appreciate him just as he was. 

“Riddler?” Oswald tested, seeing if this truly was how Ed’s… _‘other half’_ identified in name.

Ed’s head snapped in the man’s direction, his eyes picking apart Oswald to observe what state the man was in with his own sight. “Purple really brings out your eyes.” He commented with a sly grin, noting the darkened purple tone mixed with blues and specks of black on Oswald’s forehead. 

“When told to see a difference, the change appears obvious.” Oswald commented, noting the small expression features Riddler had that Ed did not. His squinting eyes were more cocky, his stance was more confident, solid seeming. “So, Riddler, what was it that happened when you attempted to take my soul?” 

“I suppose since we’re… even it makes no difference.” Riddler commented, taking the moment to put a windsor knot back in his tie that Ed had undone. Having it opened bothered him. “For a moment it was a wonderful feeling. Your soul is… incredibly bitter.” The Incubus’ eyes rolled towards his brow before they shut, opening again only to give Oswald a predatory stare, looking at him from behind his spare glasses. “One of the most delicious souls I’ve been able to taste.” His tongue slid along his lower lip at the thought. “Unfortunately for me, that’s where it ended. I had a taste of your soul, as soon as it left your lips… when it made real contact with my tongue…” Riddler’s jaw adjusted with the recollection of pain. “It was the most real pain I’ve felt. Whatever protection hex it is that’s in you, cut my mouth. Cut my tongue for trying to take your soul.” He gestured in a jabbing motion with his whole hand towards the man in his bed. It was all a learning experience, one he wouldn’t soon forget.

Oswald couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug. “I have that bitter of a soul, hmm?” His mouth curled into a pleased smile, squishing the ice pack between his hands. “No wonder I’m such a natural at what I do, even to my soul I’ve taken to the criminal lifestyle.” It was delightful to hear that his very being absorbed what he did. He was made for it. Oswald replaced the ice pack on his forehead, wincing at the fresh contact with the lump gain. 

Riddler rolled his eyes, moving from his place by the chair to walk into the bathroom. He rummaged around for a minute, taking a roll of bandages out with him towards Oswald. “Why he left you to hold that the entire time is beyond me. It would be easier if you didn’t have to fuss with it, you’re doing it wrong if you constantly need to adjust your arms.” He felt the need to correct this, going to Oswald’s side to wrap the bandage around his head to prevent direct contact, sliding the ice pack over top the goose egg then wrapped it almost entirely in place. “We wait 15 minutes, remove it, let it rest, then repeat. Honestly Ed, I thought we shared some medical knowledge for the living.” He huffed, taking advantage of the fact that the cat was out of the bag, scolding his other half aloud.

 _“Careful there, take care of him too much and you may get attached.”_ Ed warned with a smile, leaning against the kitchen counter within eyeshot of the bed. _“Remember, the building has a ‘no pets’ policy.”_

Riddler grimaced, stepping back a pace from Oz to glare at Ed. “I am not g-”

The demon paused when a hand touched his forearm, looking back to see Oswald sitting comfortably on their bed, reaching out to make the contact. “Thank you, Riddler. I very much appreciate this. And what you’ve done.” The man knew he had to get on Riddler’s best side, attempting to put some endearment between them. If there was something Oswald was proficient at, it was to make the powerful who needed nothing feel like they needed him. He was their support, their confidant. Their eyes and ears, their warning. And usually, eventually their betrayal, but perhaps he’d skip that step with the fiend. The hellish vengeance could be too much for even him to escape.

 _“You were saying?”_ Ed questioned his more ruthless counterpart, enjoyment lighting up his entire face. This was interesting to say the least for him to observe.

Riddler wasn’t sure what to make of it, Oswald seemed genuine. Which made it all the more terrifying. “I… I suppose you are welcome, Oz.”

“Oz?”

_“Oz?”_

Oh dear.

“Better than Ozzie, if I must pick.” The real pet name made Oswald’s skin crawl, he hated it. The nickname… he could perhaps live with. If it encouraged whatever positive bond he had with Riddler, it would be worth any annoyance. 

_“My little psychopath discovering what having a crush is like. I’m so proud. Look at you, developing feelings. I never thought I’d see the day.”_ Ed continued to tease, clapping his hands as though he was watching a touching performance. 

Riddler glared heavily, taking his arm from the club owner’s touch with a short yank. “I hate you. So completely and entirely I hate you.” He told Ed as he stormed passed, going to his chair to pout alone. “You are insufferable to an nth degree. Your annoyances know no bounds!” Riddler continued to become more and more frustrated, easily ramped up with Ed’s emotion-based teasing. Emotions were for weak-minded pawns that were able to be manipulated by those with greater minds and power. **HE** was not weak! By any means! “AND, for your information, I **DO NOT** have a crush! That is ridiculous to suggest such a thing! YOU. ARE. WRONG. ED.” 

Oswald clasped his hands together in his lap, drinking in the situation with eyes darting between Riddler and where Riddler was looking. This. This was interesting. A crush. On whom, though? He was getting very riled up, so Ed must have been egging him on at that moment. Which did not bode well for him given his current situation. “Ed, I think you’ve spoken your peace.” He cut in, hand raised with index finger extended upwards, thinking if he began mediating the two it could work to find more solid ground in the situation. 

_“He can’t even hear me and he’s telling me to be quiet.”_

“And I agree with him.” Riddler glared at Ed, feeling an uncomfortable churning in his torso and a mild pulsing in his head. “You could stand to be more seen and not heard.” He felt sick, which wasn’t something he handled well. He never felt this way unless it was something he wasn’t made to handle. When there were too many emotions involved, when there was too much heart-to-heart… Riddler didn’t understand those situations entirely. It was confusing. He was a genius though, he shouldn’t be confused about anything, it made no sense. He should understand everything perfectly as it was, no questions needed. Why simple emotions got the better of him… it was Ed’s fault. He knew it was. That _‘feeling’_ side of him was poisoning him, making him weaker. No doubt trying to shut him down by some means of over stimulation, to short circuit him out of control in order to take over.

Oswald moved himself from the bed, hobbling carefully across the apartment to stand between Riddler and where his eyes kept moving to meet Ed’s. His knee in particular felt sore from the tussel last night, knowing he’d been thrashing when the Director had bound him, which no doubt strained the already tender muscles and ligaments. It felt swollen and irritated, but it was nothing he hadn’t felt before and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last. He’d live. “Then why don’t you focus on me instead, and ignore him for the time being. If he’s bothering you now, we can… all talk later with less altercations.” He attempted to sooth the situation, looking to calm Riddler more. He liked Ed, he seemed like the average, nice guy. Though Ed and Riddler… perhaps shared a sibling-like relationship, filled with arguments, teasing, and prodding.

Ed rolled his eyes, grinning as he did so with his arms crossing over his chest. _“If you and your boyfriend need time together, fine. I think I can find other things to do in the meantime.”_ The other half allowed, looking at the back of Oswald’s now wrapped head. _“Have fun, and do remember, don’t play with your food.”_

“I’LL PLAY WITH HIM IF I WANT TO. YOU HAVE NO CONTROL OVER ME!” Riddler was still very tempermental in the situation, screaming seemingly at Oswald, though he stared over the shorter man’s shoulder where Ed vanished from sight.

Oswald blinked, staring at the floor for the moment as he considered what was shouted through him. “I’d prefer that if playing were to happen it be kept gentle, I’m in admittedly no condition for something like... polo.” He had to pick some game, something to derail wherever Riddler’s yelling might be going.

The demon swallowed thickly, realizing now that his conversations with Ed were very well heard and the other was trying to gear him up to say something he normally wouldn’t. His cursed pride cornered him again… “I… don’t suppose you’ve ever played polo with a man’s head before?” He was willing to board onto any topic at that point, whatever got him away from his outburst and back onto more solid ground.

“I can’t say that I’ve gotten the pleasure, no. I would imagine it’d pose a challenge as a man’s head is not a sphere and would not follow a normally predictable path.” Oswald replied casually, limping back to lean against the kitchen counter, arm on the top surface in order to better take weight off his leg. 

“Neither have I, but I always appreciate a challenge.” 

The topic change quickly died off, the room becoming silent, blanketed in a peace that wasn’t meant to be there. It was as welcomed as it was unsettling. Both figures in the room looking about for something to stare at to avoid eye contact. 

Oswald found something first, deciding to make an informative discussion about it. “From what I’m gathering, and if I assume correct, it was your other half that mentioned owning a pair of porcelain pyramids for your Sphinx mother, in pleased memory to her.” Riddler’s eyes jumped back to Oswald quickly, brows lowering in a curious surprise that the man had retained that fact. He didn’t know this was one of Oswald’s specialties. 

The man was a sponge for information he heard, it made it easier to gain favor with people when one could take a simple comment said in conversation and turn it into a pleasant surprise. Oswald had more than enough experience in gathering brushed off comments in conversation to use as fodder for himself later. “Your space is quite full of, what to call them… momentos? Do they all have such meaning?”

Riddler sat in his spot for a long minute, debating whether or not to share anything else with Oswald at the point, but his attention to such a detail wasn’t mediocre. It was mentioned once by Ed in an attempt to relate almost a week ago to that date. Yet Oswald mentioned it as though it was said that morning. It was likely just coincidence, anyone could remember one fact if they told themselves to remember it, it was not special. Or so he’d tell himself to avoid developing any other fondness for the man’s specialties. 

“They do.” 

“May I ask what some of them are?” 

He was asking permission first rather than prying? Probably safer on his part. Riddler gave a curt nod, gesturing with an open hand to his apartment where the most items were displayed. “If you wish to waste time on it, by all means.”

Oswald carefully left the counter’s support, making his way over to the bookcase slowly in order to pick a first item to question. “It is hardly a waste. If either you or Ed, perhaps even both, collected these things that hold meaning, then it is not a waste to relive the memory kept with them. Or represented by them.” He considered his options from the top shelf of the first bookcase, leaning more on his better leg with a finger on his chin as he decided what to ask about. “This. What is this one to you?”

The Incubus’ eyes followed a pointing finger to a salt and pepper shaker set sitting next to several books laying flat on their covers. The set of shakers looking like a pair of trees, one an apple tree, the other an orange tree. He set his elbow on the back of a chair, leaning over it with his chin on his hand. It still allowing his other hand to freely create movement as he spoke. “Those are from an orchard Ed and I visited when we were younger. It was where we first officially met each other, one could say. Where I had form, not just speaking in his head.” He described, letting out a heavy breath. “We argued loudly, unable to decide which orchard to find workers to feed from, so we were caught trespassing.” He relayed, though they often ended up hating each other at points, it was still a memory for them. It still was something they shared together and was a developing point in both their lives.

Oswald nodded thoughtfully, pointing to something on the second shelf, more at eye level. “And this?” His finger directed to a set of keychains hanging from a small hook display, each one seemed randomly collected, none of them matching to another. A mix of epoxied puns, characters from shows, or woven cords.

Riddler adjusted his feet where he stood, taking a more posed stance with one leg stretched out behind him, the other bent underneath him to help support his weight. His eyes briefly slid over the small collection of keychains. “Those were from the first weekend I’d spent in this body when I learned I could use it too. Each one is from a hiker I’d taken a soul from, using Mother Sphinx’s method of asking a riddle. If they failed the riddle, I took their soul.” He began to grin delightfully. “What was left of the empty husks our mother strangled to kill, consumed what she wanted, and mauled the rest. Discarding them as wild animal attacks throughout the woods.” That had been a very enjoyable weekend, that was one that he proved to not only himself, but Ed as well, that he could provide for them and keep them safe. Keep them fed. Keep them alive. 

“What a charming story.” Oswald chuckled in reply, giving Riddler mostly silence in order to have the fiend feel free to explain what he wanted. Riddler was a proud person, if they were memories he enjoyed, no doubt he could use those moments to brag somewhat. Instill back some of that confidence he often overflowed with. “How about this?” The man hobbled over to the jukebox along the wall, setting a hand on it as he took in the craftsmanship of the musical device.

“That was from a bar Ed had discovered while we travelled, the first feeding ground we’d regularly occupy.” He spoke, slowly getting up from his chair as he watched Oswald move around the apartment with some difficulties. He didn’t have his cane, but his walk was altered from its usual gate. He knew at that point how Oswald normally moved, he’d seen the man both approach and leave his sight a few times by then, and this wasn’t the same. 

“He’d taken this jukebox from the bar when it shut down a few decades later, had it shipped to us when he found out they were selling their wares. He had bought it from someone who purchased it at the bar’s auction, wanting to keep it with us.” Riddler went to the bookshelf, trying to get a better view of how Oswald’s foot was positioned on the floor in relation to his stance. How outturned it was wasn’t something that he’d noticed as much before. He knew it was not aligned as it should be, but to what degree he hadn’t had a chance to fully observe before.

“I see.” Oswald nodded, eyes curious about the room of different trinkets and moments in the fiend’s life. “Ah, how about this?” He addressed a small, carved animal, it was some sort of long-necked four legged creature. It wasn’t a giraffe, that was about all the man knew of it.

Riddler studied how Oswald’s body compacted in small ways as he walked, how much weight his body attempted to shift to the other side in order to avoid contact as much as possible on his twisted half. It took him a moment to recognize what Oswald was referencing, realizing what it was. “That is from a trip we took to visit Mother Sphinx in a migration home she had in the Andes fifty years ago. We visited her near alpaca farms in southern Peru, spending two weeks tricking farmers and passersby and killing those who couldn’t answer our riddles.”

“And you both speak… What, Peruvian for them to understand?” Oswald asked, having no idea what the official language of Peru was. Most places had their own languages though, perhaps there was Peruvian. 

Riddler chuckled at the lack of knowledge, it did not surprise him to have that kind of question. Oswald was very resourceful and street smart, but his book smart abilities seemed lacking at best. “Spanish. Spanish is the official language of Peru. In which I am fluent.” He answered simply, walking closer to Oswald as the man took in more of the smaller knick-knacks on the shelves. There were nearly too many to ask about in one sitting.

“How many languages do you know?”

“47 fluently, and another 12 that are yet completed. It’s been a long 178 years.” 

Oswald nodded simply, that being an incredibly interesting fact he could use at a point if he kept in both of the Eds’ favor. “Naturally a brain as large as yours could not be satisfied holding the world’s knowledge in just one language. No, it must fill itself with copies of that knowledge in every language it can find.” He made a simple joke, sliding in a compliment as well to pad the positive feeling in statement.

The demon’s posture stretched slightly taller, Riddler never one to deny an ego boost. “Having a brain as efficient as mine, it is unsatisfied with only knowing what little English-based teachings can give. There are more cultures throughout the world that are much more well read than English speaking humans. And those facts are important.” English only went back so far and often depicted things of a biased nature, knowing other languages gave him a perception into how everyone else saw things as well. 

Riddler pulled the ice pack from its bindings carefully, unwrapping Oswald’s head now that the time was up for the first soothing round to reduce his swelling. He set the items on the table, allowing the man to take in the details of his shelving more, knowing they’d need them again soon enough.

Oswald considered something in his mind, looking to Riddler over his shoulder. “Ha valami mást kell mondanunk, akkor így beszélhetünk.” Although rusty with specific phrases, he knew Hungarian from his mother. In his mother’s native tongue he suggested he and the fiend could share thoughts in secret using another language. He knew for sure his men lacked the knowledge, other than recordings and a translator it was as safe as he could pick to discuss private affairs openly. Ed had told him about Hungarian beliefs from one of his pages, surely it wasn’t beyond reason to think it was something he translated from Hungarian books to know.

“Egyetèrt.” Riddler replied with agreement, happy to see that certain learning wasn’t entirely beyond Oswald’s capabilities. Having the capacity for another language was a positive sign that perhaps taking information from a book wasn’t above what Oswald could manage. “Second language?”

“Nearly. I grew up among a mix of English and Hungarian. My mother had to learn English when she came here to work, she taught me both as a child. She often told me things twice, once in Hungarian and once in English. She would say to me, _‘Oswald, you are such a smart boy. You will learn this very quickly. And then you’ll have me wherever you go, because this is something special I can teach to you.’_ ...Now I’m very glad I took the time to learn.” Oswald informed the Incubus of his own past, finding it easy to share details with someone who was clearly of a similar mindset with positive motherly attachments.

Riddler had that uneasy twisting in his gut again, unsure how to handle Oswald when he was talking about something that sentimentally meant quite a deal to him. “She sounds as wise as she was creative.” He didn’t know how else to phrase that, believing that she was an artistic woman. Her logic was somewhat rudimentary, but the words likely held most of their weight in emotional pull. 

Oswald nodded, lips curling into his mouth as he did what he could to control his emotional reaction to thinking of her kind eyes and how her hands would cup his face when she spoke of things like that. How she would kiss his forehead afterwards, promising him things were okay. He maintained some composure but his eyes became glossy at the upsetting recollections. He missed her, but she would not be forgotten. He would hold onto his family history, his language and therefore hold onto her. 

The demon didn’t enjoy the continued twisting and pulling his stomach gave him, shoulders rolling forward in discomfort. “Well… she’s gone now, there’s no need to dwell so heavily on what was.” He began to exchange thoughts of how to alleviate Oswald’s heartache with brushed off casualism. If he turned his nose up at the emotions he could reject them entirely, like he did with Ed, and keep them locked out of his decision making. It was important to keep such weaknesses out of his head, to feed a thirst of knowing, not a need for comfort. 

Oswald’s form tensed at the change in tone, what small amount of muscle he held on his frame straining under his skin. “How could you say such a thing?” He questioned in disgust, eyes narrowed in a dangerous display of quickly building internal aggression. “I dare say, you may want to rethink what you’re suggesting.” He warned the demon, pointing a finger at Riddler. Otherworldly or not, he would find a way to destroy the fiend if he needed to.

“I do believe my statement stands true.” Riddler shrugged simply, head lolling to the side with his eyes fixed on Oswald. “She’s dead, she can’t come back, get over it.” He made sure to make his thoughts as cut and dry as he could, removing any sense of emotion that could be misused against him as attachment. Whatever Ed thought he saw was false. He didn’t feel. He didn’t have a need to. He was the Riddler. He cared for himself, and their shared body. That was all he needed to care for. Anything else was within his power to either accept or reject. 

And the… feelings that attempted to develop in certain situations could easily be rejected. 

“Get over it?” 

“Yes.”

“Just like that, huh?” 

“Just like that. Your dead mother is no longer here. She is in one of several places. Either she’s in the ground, and in a number of decades her rotted body will be picked over by worms and larvae that have been laid in her corpse. She has been cremated and her ashes have been tossed aimlessly somewhere over a landscape, turning your mother into a free fertilizer. Or you have her ashes kept somewhere in a vessel, using your mother as nothing more than a cheap conversation starter on a mantle.” Ridder’s voice raised, feeling no threat in the situation. The only hurt Oswald could cause him was through the hex, and seeing as he couldn’t force the demon to feed from him, there was nothing he could do. “SHE’S DEAD. And in almost every scenario, she is nothing more than a NUTRITIOUS ECOLOGICAL SUPPLEMENT!”

Riddler turned his back on Oswald, staring into his brow in frustration, taking in a long breath to steady himself again.

Oswald seemed almost serene for half a moment, eyes closed, mouth laxing open a hair before they snapped open. His hand immediately grabbed for a display case on the shelf next to the alpaca figure, smashing the glass on the bookcase frame, jumping at Riddler with surprising agility for a man in his condition. The sound of glass breaking triggered the demon to glance over his shoulder, looking just in time for a handful of broken shards to be pushed into his face. 

False blood from the body began to drain from the lesions, the Incubus having a moment to register what was happening before a hardcover textbook hit him and the fragments of glass stuck in his face square on. The glass was embedded further in, deepening the wound and increasing the amount of _human_ blood produced.

“HOW DARE YOU SAY ANYTHING ABOUT HER!!” Oswald screamed in agony and anger, book still in hand as he drew back and hit Riddler in the face again with it, determined to have those glass pieces coming out the back of his head. “YOU DIDN’T KNOW HER! YOU CANNOT JUDGE MY MOTHER! SHE WAS PERFECT IN EVERY WAY!” He defended her beyond her life, sent into a rage by what could be seen as too harsh of a reality he never asked to be delivered. “YOU ARE A TWO-BIT, STARVING FIEND THAT NEEDS A HUMAN’S HELP TO LIVE!” The book was driven into Riddler’s disappearing features again, it becoming unrecognizable through the gashes, swelling skin and blood beginning to coat and splatter his face.

That Oswald held this sort of power, the fiend had no idea. 

Oswald took what was left of the display case, a metal frame covered in bits of remaining glass in one hand. He cared little for the cuts he received, finding his attack to be so much more satisfying. “Now how pathetic is that, Riddler?!” He questioned the demon, driving the improvised weapon into the torso in front of him, shoving the Incubus down to the floor to continue his assault. “YOU NEED ME! YOU NEED ME, AND THIS IS WHAT YOU’VE CHOSEN!” Oswald fell on Riddler’s body, good knee first, driving the glass riddled frame through the dress shirt the Incubus wore, tearing and shredding the skin underneath to the best of his ability. Every jab was more than a simple thrust forward, Oswald’s rage induced brain making use of motion. He twisted the frame at the end of each thrust as it continually buried itself deeper in the fiend’s stomach.

“...O-Osw…” The man’s name almost left the demon’s mouth, though the nightclub owner didn’t seem to want to let that happen.

The metal frame and glass pieces found Riddler’s mouth, Oswald shoving it into the cavity as far as he could. The demon had a big mouth, no doubt it would fit. Looking back he could see a set of vinyl records for the jukebox and larger ones for a gramophone kept in the apartment as well. Going for a smaller jukebox envelope, the man pulled out the record, breaking it twice to make a strong enough shard to work with. 

“...zwa…”

“SHUT UP! YOU…! You don’t deserve to speak for what you said! I should carve out your tongue and vocal chords and leave them in a box for you to _‘remember this’_ by.” Oswald mocked, driving the broken triangle of record into Riddler’s throat. Just once didn’t do though, his arm repeating the action until he would be able to fit his fingers through the hole in the demon’s neck. The hair on his forehead was long since out of place, sweat over his skin at the effort of the violent attack.

Oswald stood up from the demon’s body, still hearing him gurgle in attempts to say something. The man rolled his eyes at the effort, limping over to a light enough standing lamp, hauling it out from the wall to drag over to Riddler’s position. “Really, you could stand to be more seen. Not heard.” He repeated Riddler’s comment to Ed earlier, holding the standing light under its bulb, swinging the base into Riddler’s skull, caving in a small section in the front, causing the bloody body on the floor to go still. 

No one talked poorly of his mother, not even his business partners. Especially not his business partners. It took a couple minutes, but as the adrenaline left his body, Oswald felt the room spin more. Overwhelmed by the situation both physically and emotionally. He had to leave. He’d have his men clean this up, for some of them, this was all they knew and it was what they were best at. Couldn’t argue with a criminally accepting man who could take blood stains out of hardwood flooring older than any of them. They were more than worth their wage.

Oswald began to hobble his way out of the room, noting the blood splatter that speckled up the wall. Perhaps he’d throw in a holiday bonus of some sort for the extra effort needed to be sure the apartment was spotless of his evidence. That should be wonderful incentive to keep the workers happy. His eyes caught the embossed card he’d sent with Ed’s suit, sitting on the bookshelf with other knick-knacks, blood specks freckling the cardstock and typography. He took the card in his fingers, tucking it into his suit jacket before leaving the apartment. 

It required effort, but he got down the stairs of Ed’s building on his own, suffering with the swelling in his knee. It rejected his passionate killing and his long walk down so many stairs but once he returned home he could rest. It was early hours of the morning and god knew he needed sleep at this point. And a shower. Whatever it was that was the fiend’s false blood was soaked into his clothes, he looked like a mess.

Oswald was taken from the scene when one of his men showed up in a stretch black car, a payphone several buildings down on the corner providing him all the resource he needed to begin pulling contacts. His ride, the cleaners, his men. All handled in appropriate ways for their roles. He went to bed that night after a bath with little on his mind. He felt somewhat remorseful that such a good ally like Ed, or even Riddler, had to go to such a waste. It was necessary though. It was his gut reaction and he would defend his mother to the ends of the Earth. Without her there was no him, he owed her everything in his life. He destroyed the fiend’s head, surely that would do something about the _unkillable_ conundrum. 

The card he took back from Ed’s apartment sat on the desk in his office a few doors down from the bedroom of the manor he currently lived in. The manor was a gift from his deceased father, as far as anyone was concerned. Some details were better not shared with some. Some secrets were worth keeping to oneself and trusting to no one. The fact there was a demon in the city wouldn’t leave him. People would simply need to believe that Ed found little challenge in Gotham and moved on. It would be easy to frame.

 

Oswald’s routine in the morning went as it normally did. Dressed in simple pajamas and a large robe he occupied the bathroom for half an hour to take care of each simplistic need and hygiene habit, then proceeded to the dining room where already staffed members of the kitchen made breakfast for the underground networking criminal. He ate in peace, thanking his main maid Olga as she cleaned after him. Another approximate 53 minutes was used to dress himself and have his hair styled in just the way he wanted it that day in his master bedroom.

He heavily used his cane that morning, feeling the results of the tying up, the murder, and the walking afterwards. It all added on his already sore joints. He went toward his office, opening the door and glanced ahead to the desk at the end of the long room. One thing was out of place though.

Or rather, in a place it wasn’t before.

Oswald quickly limped his way to the desk, admiring the vase of purple gradient lilies that filled it, mixed among were green and white small flowers to accentuate and fluff the floral display. The man looked around the room for someone to ask about the delivery, but he was the only one in the office, eyes going back to the display with a smile. This was such a surprise. A pleasant one, most assuredly. He would need to burn these in case someone was trying to plan a trap. What a shame.

In front of the vase on the desk was a piece of cardstock, words typed on its face, asking for attention with its content. The man eyed the card for a moment, limping forward to take it, stepping back from the flowers again for a safe amount of distance between him and the mystery flora. He wouldn’t put it beyond someone in Gotham to weaponize flowers in order to kill their enemies. 

_‘I am used to show sympathy, but I’m more present when it’s lost._  
I am often with a crowd, but I’m normally introduced alone.  
I will bring you closer, but only once you’re separated.  
What am I?’ 

Oswald was quiet for a long moment, holding the card in his fingers. Of course it wasn’t over that easily. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he couldn’t say that he hadn’t been hoping in a region of his mind. His hand dropped, card tapping against his leg as he thought of what to do.

“Do you give up?”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m… Sorry.”


	5. Deal or No Deal?

Oswald took in a deep breath, turning around to see the aftermath of what he’d caused, unable to help the snicker that escaped him. “You’ve looked better, but purple really does brings out your eyes. Or what’s left of them.” He swung the sly comment back at the man in the corner of his room, setting the card down by the vase. “These are your work then, I assume?” The man gestured to the flowers, looking them over more carefully now.

“They are.” 

“And what is your goal here?”

Who he assumed to be Riddler stepped out more into the natural light of the office, his bruised face still in mid-repair, his gashes seemed closed and the blood was missing from his face. However, it seemed to still be all over the clothes he was wearing. “I… believe I may have overstepped last night.”

“Gee, what drew you to that conclusion?” 

“I could have presented my thoughts more clearly, rather than… reacted in such an irrational, emotional way.” Riddler showed shame, something that wasn’t becoming on who was normally a confident person. Or perhaps that was the lumped out skin still trying to find its place in the healing process. “I… clearly caused you enough discomfort you attempted to kill me. Several times in one sitting. So, I figured it the best step to apologize.”

“So you broke into my house, planted an apology gesture, and stayed hidden until the moment was dramatic enough?” Oswald questioned, looking over the lilies again. “I should have expected no less from you. By the way, what were you hiding behind? A chair? The room was empty when I walked in…” 

Riddler walked towards the desk, though the demon was clearly still keeping his distance. He was hunched forward in his stance, Oswald unable to tell if that was leftover from last night’s murder or not. “I couldn’t go back to work today looking like this, so I needed something to preoccupy my time.” He spoke nonchalantly, eyes focusing on the limb he’d been noticing was still giving Oswald trouble. “How is your leg?”

“Painful. Like your words towards my mother last night.”

Oswald’s quick whip to look at him, hand slapping down onto the desk said more than he needed to know. “Yes, well… I…” He still felt sick… ever since last night. A hand moved to his stomach, resting there over his stained shirt. “I… wanted to make up and maybe clear some of that resentment.”

The man rolled his eyes at the actions, throwing the card still in his hand to his desk. “Nice try, but whatever you’re trying to pull, I’m not falling for it.” He denied, staring into what was left to see of Riddler’s eyes behind the still swollen skin. 

“I’m not… pulling anything.” Riddler denied, wincing at the hard twist and knot his stomach took, kneeling to the floor from the feeling. “I’ve come here to apologize, I… hnng… wished to do it of my own accord...”

“Yes, this is quite touching, but you can leave now.” Oswald shooed off Riddler with a hand, dismissing the demon from his office. “Whatever issue you’re having, it is not my concern today. Please, shut the door behind you on the way out. I’ll tell the boys to give you a forty second head start before they begin shooting.” 

“Oswald… listen to me.”

“NO, RIDDLER!” Oswald denied, marching closer to the fiend on his floor, pointing his cane at Riddler. “YOU LISTEN!” He set the ground rules again, his temper rising with this clinging he had now on multiple levels denied. Whatever game this was, it was losing its charm very quickly. “I don’t need to listen to you. You or your _other half_. The two of you have done enough damage for one span of 24 hours. Why don’t you stop while you’re ahead before you really make me mad?” He scowled down at the otherworldly figure, willing to find books he could use to learn how to rid himself of desperate demons. “Consider what happened last night to be a preview of what I’d do to you.”

Riddler was quiet verbally for some time, groaning softly at what felt like his stomach in a vice grip, just a few twists away from popping in his torso like a clutched balloon. “Oswald…” 

“Whaaaaat…?” His word was drawn out, annoyed this wasn’t finished already.

“Were these a preferred flower of hers? They seemed similar to the ones in her painting.”

Oswald stiffened at the question, swallowing a lump that attempted to form in his throat. He didn’t like that the Incubus picked up that detail from looking at the painting. “And what if they were? It doesn’t matter much now. What was it that you called her? Nutritious ecological supplement? It appears unable to really appreciate things and express it clearly.” He said with spite, leaning on his cane in front of Riddler on his floor.

“I… ap… apologize.” 

“Not good enough, Edward.”

“Do… Don’t call me… that…” 

“And what will you do about it, Edward? It hurts, doesn’t it, Edward? To hear something someone is saying to deliberately to hurt you? Doesn’t it, **Edward**? When someone you thought you could trust to some degree says something hurtful on purpose to you, **EDWARD**?” Oswald began to enunciate more each time he spoke the name, doing what he could to get under the fiend’s bruised skin.

“Stop… Stop calling me that…!” He wasn’t Edward. He wasn’t Ed. He. Was. The. Riddler.

“Stop calling you what, Edward? Your name? Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward.” 

“ **ENOUGH!** ” Riddler shouted loudly with what little strength he was holding onto, alerting men walking up to the office that wandered the halls of the manor. 

Two large men with automatic weaponry came running into the office, assessing the situation quickly, aiming the muzzles of their guns at who seemed to be a man kneeling on the floor. 

“Just say the word, boss.”  
“We got him.”

Oswald nodded at the men who came running in to check out the noise. They were incompetent to have not caught Riddler breaking in, but bless their souls that they were trying. The very thought gave him an idea, his features becoming much lighter. Blessed souls. That may be just what was needed. “Boys, I can handle this. If you would, leave. I’m going to handle this in my own way.” 

“But… boss-”

“Ah, ah! No buts, Mister. You two may go, let me deal with this interloper.” He stood his ground as being in charge, waiting patiently until the men slunk out, closing the door behind them. “What good manners I’ve taught them. They were hopeless before coming to me for work.” He informed Riddler who still clutched at his torso in pain. “You wish to apologize to me?”

“Yes… though I see what… a… pointless venture th-... this is.” 

“Try to take my soul.” 

Riddler looked up from his place on the floor, pieces of his hair falling forward out of its slickened place to hang in front of his eyes. “...But we…”

“Oh, I’m well aware. Consider that compensation for the hurt you caused. Do this, we’re even.” He set his terms, willing to drop the issue if Riddler was willing to put himself in harm’s way, to allow whatever hex was on him to cause damage again.

The demon swallowed deeply, having an idea of the reaction last time. It was unpleasant, it was uncomfortable, it was painful… he… ashamedly loved it. It wasn’t fear that caused him to hesitate on the deal, he didn’t want to find out that Oswald had something he desired. Something he could lust for. He should be without every attachment. Especially desire, for desire was dangerous.

“Well? Do you take the deal or do you leave? Also absolving our previous pact?”

Losing a preferred feeding ground and the comfort he’d developed there though… Riddler and Ed were becoming attached to the place, not at the point yet where they’d form a memory with it, but it was an appreciated spot. “Fine.” It would be a test for himself. He’d ignore the pleasantries with the interaction. When he proved to himself that he felt nothing, it would solidify his ability to ignore baser callings that would falter someone weaker willed. Like Ed.

“Good. Then let’s get this over with.” 

Oswald was now more aware about soul consumption thanks to Riddler’s previous description of what happened, using his cane as a brace to help take the demon onto his feet. This was the only way he could actually hurt him, and he wanted to truly hurt him so much. As ugly as Riddler’s face still was from his manic beatings last night, it seemed that it meant nothing to the fiend. It didn’t actually hurt him, it was only aesthetically inconvenient.

It took Riddler a moment to steady himself on his feet, composing himself to ignore how tightly his stomach compressed, crackling in his chest flared at the anticipation of the hex hitting him again. His tongue darted quickly between his lips, cursing himself internally for the reaction. “After this… we’re even. Again. Deal?”

“Deal.” 

The man and the Incubus shared a handshake, sealing their deal in the traditional mortal way. Oswald squared himself in front of Riddler, shimmying his shoulders to let go of the odd dread in the back of his mind. He assumed the hex was good for more than just one use, so nothing should be of any worry to him. The motion reminded Riddler of a bird sitting on a wire, shaking out its feathers as it got comfortable. 

There was no need for words, nothing to say to increase how awkward the moment was to either of them. The Incubus went right for the kiss, catching Oswald’s face in his hands and startling the human with his quicker set of reflexes. Which could only make the man curious where those reflexes were the previous night when he was hammering glass shards into the creature’s face with literary work. 

Lips pushed together, Oswald’s hands clenching at his sides as he refused to be an active participant in the experience. This was for punishment, nothing else. The man’s eyes were clenched together, nose wrinkling on the sides. Allowing his vengeance to come to fruition. It was necessary, but it was odd at best. Riddler’s long fingers held his face, adjusting the angle of their heads to best get around Oswald’s beaked nose. The demon adjusted his hand, using the interior side of his index finger to encourage the man’s mouth open, inhaling deeply to get to the soul he was told to find.

It was only business. 

Riddler pulled parts of Oswald’s soul closer to the brink, feeling a hard clutching in his lower stomach, a pleasant tingling around his hips developed as he knew what was coming shortly.

Oswald let the Riddler do what was necessary for the punishment, noting how despite the inhale, the kissing still continued. It wasn’t an ugly process of standing with his mouth open against another’s like a gaping fish, though he wasn’t sure what could be considered worse to him.

The Incubus did what he could not to hesitate, inhaling a lungful at a time until a delightfully bitter flavor came to his tongue, feeling the presence of Oswald’s soul in the man’s mouth. It was now or never. The taste of soul lasted longer than the last time, Riddler drinking in how bitter Oswald’s soul could be, consuming a fractional portion at a time. It warmed his chest, his charm cracking with more strength despite that he had no use for it at this point. Getting to taste just how manic, how psychotic, Oswald was put him in a sensory overload. His tongue convinced to snake into the other’s mouth for a better taste. He had direct contact with what serving of Oswald’s soul rested there before the once experienced shock came back. 

Having felt it before, it surprised him less. Riddler took the shot from the hex, cringing at the pain with his hands clutching at Oswald’s face more tightly. The hex cut his tongue, the tar-like blood flowing slowly out of the wound, hitting the man’s tongue in turn that sat still beneath the bleeding muscle.

Oswald’s soul was so tempting. He was diabolical to his core, evil down to the last portion of his soul. The man could be thoughtful, but at a moment’s notice he was tearing out your throat on the apartment floor and it was a decision that came so quickly to him. It was automatic. It was natural. He was so tainted, murder was how he solved simple arguments in such a brutal fashion… Riddler had a shiver down his spine, giving him goosebumps as the hex cracked at the tongue intruding its vessel again.

Riddler felt a long slice down the side of his tongue, refusing to break the bond when he could still taste the bitter soul waiting for him. He knew he drank some of it, he needed the rest. He craved it. He _desired_ it. He didn’t expect Oswald to return his actions, that wasn’t the point of the punishment. So when Oswald’s tongue ran along his, a deep breath leaving the man’s nose, it only made him feel more nauseous. It felt like the man was drinking him, taking him in as much as he was with the human he clutched to.

Oswald felt like he was drinking the strongest, most expensive liquor known to man. Something flavored heavily with black licorice, something sweet, something he’d never tasted before. Whatever changed in this moment, whatever the flavored liquid in his mouth was, he didn’t care. It was astounding to the tastebuds, and if he could bottle it, he would to keep for only himself. His hands moved from where he hadn’t wanted them to leave earlier, gripping the front of Riddler’s shirt that was more crisp feeling than it should be. Though that was likely the dried blood from before. It cracked under his grip, the man pulling the demon closer to him. 

The kiss remained a battle of tongues and breath. Oswald taking in every new wound the hex caused, drinking the intoxicating liquid he could find while Riddler deeply inhaled whatever he could taste of the man’s soul. This trade happened until the demon wasn’t sure he had much of a tongue anymore, breaking the kiss only to hear a desperate whine from the body in front of him. The sudden departure had the dark blood dribbling down either of their chins. 

It gave Riddler a moment to attempt to control his need for Oswald’s soul, still holding the man’s face as the human stared wistfully at the ceiling. His tongue licking over his lip and chin to pick up more of the taste of the Incubus’ natural blood. His eyes half-lidded, a stupid grin across his mouth, wavering in Riddler’s hold. “Mhmmm… you are a pretty man, are you aware of this?” Oswald questioned, eyes floating down from the interesting ceiling to pay attention to the fiend in front of him.

“I am no man, but… are you okay, Oswald?”

“I am much better than okay, friend!” Oswald claimed, his hands patting the front of Riddler’s chest. “I am doing wonderfully, I must say. Whatever it is you have done, I feel quite liberated.” He assured the demon, leaning ahead to give him a short kiss of his own, getting what blood dripped down Riddler’s lip onto his own to taste again. The man let go of the Incubus, stumbling away, cane hardly finding footing on the floor before he continued, but his limp was less pronounced. 

He seemed… drunk.

Riddler raised a hand to his lip, wiping at a smear of the blue-tinted black liquid, it becoming clear to him with some thought. His blood… It had an effect of its own. And Oswald swallowed some quantity of it. So would his charm work if he was affected by the blood? “Hey Oswald?” He questioned, testing his theory as he turned on his charm. His chest already warmed from the consumption of the man’s soul, but it crackled actively as he saw Oswald turn, meeting eyes with him. “What would you say to… continuing our venture? Somewhere more private? More… comfortable for us to share together?” He questioned suavely. “Perhaps we could move to your chambers?” A smile graced Riddler’s face, looking to entice the man along to see what he could accomplish.

Oswald smiled dreamily for a long moment, swaying next to his desk before laughing. “Ed… Riddler… Nooooooooo. You are a tricky boy, Riddler! I know what you’re up to…!” Oswald claimed, a cheshire grin so far across his mouth as he waggled a finger at the demon. “You’re trying to sleep with me! Well I’m afraid it’s not that easy. Valiant effort though!” He applauded the try with a positive tone, moving to sit himself down in his desk chair. Nearly falling out of it and onto the floor but remained upright with some effort. 

Riddler’s face dropped, guessing that the hex still protected Oswald’s soul from being tempted into what he suggested. There went that theory. 

_“What did you do to him?”_ Ed appeared next to the Incubus, looking on at Oswald with studious eyes. _“He isn’t supposed to consume something like that, he’s human. Who knows what effects will hit him after…”_ Riddler’s better half spoke with some concern, walking closer to the desk with the nightclub owner tapping his toes on the floor. 

“There’s one way to find out, Eddie.” 

Oswald noted the speaking wasn’t to him, staring at Riddler before smiling more. “Ed is here? Tell him I said hello, I like that fellow too. Also quite a pretty man.”

The demon’s hands rose to rub his eyes under his glasses to reflect his frustration in that sentiment. “We are essentially identical twins. There is no getting more identical than us.” Riddler spoke, of course Ed would seem pretty to Oswald if he was. They shared the same face. “Naturally you’d think that.”

“I don’t know if he heard me telling you that. I don’t want to leave either of you out, that’s not good business.” Oswald stated as though it were obvious, still tapping his toes on the floor.

Ed laughed at the reaction, clapping his hands together in front of his chest. _“Oh he is simply precious. However, you are still reckless.”_ He pointed out to Riddler, arm crossed over his body, elbow propped on his wrist while his hand hung by his face. 

“Noted.” Riddler didn’t honestly care, now he was curious to see what else would come about this. 

_“Also, does something feel… off to you?”_ Ed questioned, leaning his mouth against the knuckles by his face, in mid-thought while Riddler made his way over to Oswald.

The demon leaned against the desk, standing at Oswald’s side and let the man hold his forearm in drunken affection. “Somewhat.” 

_“There must be something up if you’re willing to admit it aloud.”_

“I’m sorry I killed you last night, Riddler. I’m developing a habit of it…” Oswald spoke in concern, thumb rubbing along the dress shirt the demon wore, giving the Incubus affectionate signs. “This is the second time I’ve tried killing you now. I feel somewhat responsible…”

Riddler sighed, getting a sickening weight in his gut again. “Yes well… if you could stop, that’d be appreciated. I need to eventually go back to work and you caused quite the damage.” His eyes didn’t feel as swollen shut as that morning though, he was still healing quickly, by that evening he’d be presentable enough. It’d look like a mild allergic reaction or hay fever. 

“Do you accept my apology…?” Oswald questioned, staring up at Riddler from his position, hand gripping tighter around the limb he held. 

Riddler stared out the window at the back of the room, taking in the view. “I suppose I could.”

“And I accept yours.” The man claimed, patting the arm he kept in his possession. “You look majestic in the light, I must say.” 

“This is going to be a looong sobering period.”

 

It took a few glasses of water, three snacks and over an hour, but Oswald began to drop off the intoxicating control of demon’s blood. He became much more to his usual state, losing the affection and becoming more centered. Oswald was off when he returned to a normal state. He spoke less, his sentences were less flourished and more to the point. He was direct and to business, allowing Riddler to stay around for the day but did not often confer with him about what was happening. It wasn’t dreadfully different, more how Oswald may act if it was a long day. He was reserved, but not in a way that would be alarming.

Riddler wasn’t incredibly surprised, he knew he had consumed part of Oswald’s soul. Somewhere in their lack of controlled state, he managed to steal a portion of the nightclub owner’s soul and it felt so good that he could force the hex enough to get a taste of the bitter flavor. 

However, what was surprising was that he felt hungry throughout the early evening. He consumed a small quantity from Oswald that day… he knew he had. He felt that he had. It was perhaps 10% but it was still enough to get him through a day or so before needing another soul to steal. That he wanted to eat… it confused him. He waited for Oswald to go to dinner in the manor, choosing to stay in the office for time to himself to think it over. 

_“Where did you last see the soul you lost?”_ Ed asked his more cruel half, not looking to be exceptionally helpful. 

“I was eating it, moron.” Riddler shook his head, pacing the room between the desk and the window. “It shouldn’t have gone anywhere. I should have eaten it and we should be fine.” He stated the facts. Things he knew. Things he could rely on. Things that normally didn’t betray him, but seemed to be doing so just then for kicks. “The only place it could’ve gone is in us. We should have eaten it.”

_“Well. There’s **one** thing you’re not considering.”_

“Don’t you dare.”

Ed bent over the flowers still on Oswald’s desk. At one point they’d been relocated more to the top left corner, but still in plain view. The manifestation took a whiff of the flowers, grinning to himself. _“Have you considered that you’ve absorbed it in another way?”_ His grin said it all.

Riddler shook his head defiantly, his steps pausing to best look at Ed in disgust. “That you’ve even suggested such a thing to me is despicable.” His eyes narrowed at his other half, continuing his pacing. “There must be a more logical reason than that.”

_“Face it, Romeo. You absorbed his soul into your own. He told you to take it, and you did. You took it from him and kept it. You gave up a portion of your soul to make room for his.”_ Ed smiled confidently, laughing heartily on his side of the desk. _“Now isn’t this a turn of events? You like him. You like him so much, you wanted to keep his soul.”_

“I DO NOT!” Riddler’s voice raised, stomping his foot in protest while he shouted at Ed. “This ridiculous situation you’re conjuring must end, Eddie!” He denied, drawing a line in the sand.

_“You’re going through courting a little backwards, but it’s all there. He provided you with a multitude of souls. You’ve both exchanged small gifts now. He gave you something you’ve hardly taken off. Even now you’re still wearing it, despite it being covered in several layers of different fluids and there being garments missing.”_ Ed pointed out, referencing to the suit Oswald had given them. _“We took the card that came with it and added it to the other momentos. And now, you’ve taken part of his soul. I don’t see how it could be any more obvious than this. You would have to invent new levels of stupidity to miss these signs.”_

Riddler’s mouth tightened into a thin line, staring down at the floor with a grimace. 

_“You know I’m right.”_

The smugness in Ed’s voice only made the situation worse in his head. “I know you are, but I don’t want you to be! If I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not a fact.” The demon stated like a temperamental child, eyes closing as his stomach knotted painfully. “I hate everything involved in this… This is not where I should be…” 

_“Do I need to take over?”_

Riddler glared at Ed with a snarl. “YOU’VE ALREADY BEEN TRYING!” He gripped at his stomach more. “I can feel you trying now! Don’t ask like you’re so innocent! You’ve been influencing me in this, and attempting to push your emotions onto me! I know what this feeling is… I know why I feel sick! It’s you! Like I hurt your mind, you hurt my emotion!” He groaned, hating the pull he felt. 

_“Then maybe you should listen to me and end your suffering.”_

“Maybe you should mind your own damn business! And LEAVE. ME. ALONE!” Riddler shouted into the depths of the room, fingers rubbing at his eyes under his last pair of available glasses. Oswald broke his backup pair last night. This was his final set. Then he had to go buy more, and honestly he didn’t want to. There’d been enough happening lately. When he looked again Ed was gone, the demon glancing around the room to see if he was hidden somewhere.

Not that he was innocent of not pushing Ed to let him out, overpowering the other in order to take what he wanted. Ed had nothing to fight for though. He, however, was around on a mission. Or, rather, what Ed wanted was a waste of time, so he prioritized himself first.

Riddler bent forward, trying to catch his breath from the sickness he felt. “Fine. You want a courting? I’ll show you the grandest courting you’ve ever seen or read. Even Oswald _‘everything-to-the-nines’_ Cobblepot will be impressed by the extravagance and detail.”

If it forced his emotional half to stop this assault on their body, he’d do it. It was… perhaps something he could admit to, that he had a preference for Oswald, but that was where it ended. He didn’t enjoy very many people. That was no secret. And other than their Mother Sphinx he had not come to witness another person as ruthless as Oswald. He kept his business affairs in line, he had employees he kept happy, he ran an illegal industry under layers of paperwork and legal activities, he seemed to manage to stay out of the GCPD’s range while still ruling what he could of Gotham’s underground network. And… the man did horrendous things with a vinyl record. 

A sigh escaped Riddler’s nose as his eyes closed, easily able to picture Oswald over him in a flurried rage of flying glass shards. The eidetic memory helped keep that picture fresh in his mind, as it would likely always stay. The image was brutal. It was not a memory any regular person would ever want to have even if they had been lucky enough to survive the event. Which they would not have, Oswald’s fatal overkill would be sure of that. Riddler’s hand rose to touch his throat where the vinyl had dug in, feeling the soft scar tissue that was on its way to healing back to perfect shape. 

Perhaps he’d amuse Ed by going through the full courting process with Oswald, but he was doing this in his own way. Surely Ed had some attachments as well or he wouldn’t be so teasing, the emotional one had an easier time hiding his emotions among what he already felt. Whereas Riddler… it became clear when he was becoming influenced. So how Ed really felt, Riddler wasn’t sure.

He stayed quiet in the room, alone without Edward to bother him. The demon took the time to consider his options even as Oswald returned to the room. 

“You decided to stay after all.”

“I did say that I would wait here.”

Oswald nodded, looking marginally better than before he ate. “I had thought you might’ve gotten bored and left. This is… a pleasant surprise.” The man’s mouth adjusted with lips pulled in momentarily as he considered a thought. “Did you need anything? Someone to feed from, perhaps? There aren’t an astounding amount of loose options here, but losing one of the part-time maids wouldn’t be the worst thing to my checkbook.” He offered, having no issue if he lost one of his staff. It was only one, he could hire another. 

Riddler shook his head, denying the specific offer. “I do not need to feed so badly that I would take one of your staff.” He’d find someone around his apartment that night. “Oswald?”

“Yes?” The nightclub owner made his way closer to the demon, taking a seat behind his desk to begin menial paperwork. 

“Would you be particularly perturbed if I made a suggestion?”

“I suppose that depends what your suggestion is.”

A fair enough response. “What would you say to being apart of my feeding process when needed? Humans can make official deals with other humans to take portions of souls. It’s an entirely new business venture for you to succeed in. They are stored in you, you transport them to us, Ed or I feed from you. Say, you have an enemy you need to kill at that moment, I can’t be there. You can make a deal for a portion of their soul, keep it, and therefore there’s little waste.” The first step of courting was for one side to present souls to another. Since souls meant nothing to Oswald, he couldn’t fulfill that and needed the human to bring him the souls to gift instead. 

There was nothing that said attractive to an Incubus or Succubus than another of their kind with a frequent stack of souls. They were well fed, could provide, clearly had means to a feeding ground. It was an incredibly attention-grabbing feature. Oswald was already many of those things, he just had to hold them in his body to complete the set.

Oswald was quiet as he thought, picking up a pen to begin writing over a document he had that provided information and zoning laws on what he could have done to the orphanage to upgrade it. Inside or out, an update to either the living spaces or extra room and play space outside would look very good for his proceedings. “Just how complex is this process?” 

“It’s actually quite simple.” Riddler informed him, taking advantage of the so far positive acceptance. “You merely have to bargain that person for something they want. Whether something else sees to the end of that contract is out of your hands. As long as you hold your end of the bargain, part of their soul can come under your possession. Once they die, you keep it, broken word or not.” It was simple pickings, and for someone as who made deals like Oswald must, it should be child’s play. 

“How much is this… _portion_ that I can take from them? Is it significant?”

“You can take up to half of a human’s soul. If they only have a half, then you have a quarter. So on, so forth.” 

The man stared down at his paper, pen tapping on the desk as he considered buying a portion of the rundown apartment and its land behind the orphanage, having it demolished, and then building what he desired for them. Wouldn’t hurt to have that likely abandoned building, what was left, refurbished and opened again. “And as long as I keep my bargain, it remains with me? Until you have it, then it is yours for consumption, I’m guessing?”

“Once I consume them from you, they are no longer under your control.”

“And the hex?”

“They won’t be your souls by nature, only by possession. So it shouldn’t count as far as I can predict.”

Oswald made a note on his paper before chuckling, tapping the end of his pen again against the stacked sheets. “I think you’ve just given me a dastardly idea.” He reached for a rotary phone on his desk, putting in a few numbers excitedly, waiting for the dialing to end for a man’s voice. “Mr. Penn, I have business I wish to discuss.” A long response came back as Oswald nodded thoughtfully. “Tomorrow evening at 5 it is, yes. Thank you.” 

Riddler was curious but he knew of Mr. Penn. He had heard his name around several circles and in the police department. He was a man of many schedules, and often kept notes and appointments for the few heavy hitters in Gotham. Which brought up alarm bells, no one who dealt with multiple bosses like the ones ruling Gotham from beneath could be entirely loyal. For him, they should be wary. 

“Riddler.” Oswald announced, standing up from his chair to face the demon with a long grin and an outstretched hand. “I will accept your deal, but on one condition.”

“What is it, Oz?”

Oswald’s eyes flickered away at the nickname, still preferring it leagues over Ozzie. Eugh. What a vile term of endearment. “We keep this as private as possible. No one knows.” He stated, making the rules clear from the beginning. “I will provide you with an ongoing supply of souls personally, as much as you could imagine, to have in trade for your silence and your assistance.”

“Assistance? What could I assist you with?”

“Leave the GCPD, work for me instead.” Oswald offered. If he was going to have such a connection to the demon he was hardly going to let either Riddler or Ed leave his sight for long. “I will pay you double what they are, bring you a nearly unlimited supply of souls, and you will not speak a word of our exchanges. We cover for our more frequent meetings by you becoming my right-hand… fiend.” 

Riddler was somewhat stunned by the offer, but the man keeping his friends close and possible betrayers closer was likely a tactic he’d acquired from his time in the business. “And what is it that I’ll need to provide for you to accomplish this… right-hand position?”

“Become my confidant. I have many secrets but few I can share even the most vague with. Yourself, Ed, and I now have several between us and too much to lose if anything suspicious were to arise. Share with me your company, and that over-sized noggin of yours. A brain like that would have endless possibilities in this business.” Oswald kept his hand in front of him, looking to strike a new deal with the fiend. 

_“Do you think we can trust him with such a thing?”_

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Riddler questioned, glancing out of the corner of his eye where Ed sat in a cushioned chair in the corner. 

Oswald shook his head, eyes off where Riddler was looking. “No, no. I want him in on this as well. The both of you. I need Ed and yourself to agree to the same terms. I can’t have one half of you on board, but the other half has no attachment. You’re both in, or no deal.” Which would be a shame, but he had to count that he made a good enough impression on both in order to seal this agreement. “What do you both say?”

Ed was being watched by the two of them though Oswald’s eyes were more focused on the wall behind him than his own manifestation. _“What’s the worst that could happen for us in this? He outs our secret, we move to another country. That ends what he can do to us. We could kill him with our bare hands or some bladed weapon, so I don’t see much of a downside. I’m in.”_

Riddler nodded, placing his hand in the outstretched appendage towards him, looking to Oswald casually. “We’re both in. We agree to your terms and conditions.”

 

“Splendid!” Oswald smiled, glad that the partnership could continue so smoothly. “Then see me in two days time. I will have your first soul buffet ready for your dining pleasure if your instructions are correct. After you’re satisfied that I can hold up my end of the bargain, we begin discussing the details of your new job. Does that sound fair to you?”

“It does, indeed.” 

“Excellent. Now leave, I have much I must prepare for now and you are making too much noise for me to concentrate on my work.” He stated, hand on Riddler’s back to walk him out of the office. “Shoo, shoo! Much to do!” Oswald smiled warmly, scooting Riddler out and closing the door behind himself. He leaned into the decorative doorway with a smirk, lower lip catching between his teeth. The deal and continued partnership brought back a happy feeling despite the part of his soul now missing, if he was lucky he could get another drink of the aftermath of Riddler’s hexed tongue. 

But now… Now with this new deal… What he knew about Ed and Riddler wasn’t enough. He needed to find information on just what they were. He believed he knew enough detail that he could find out with a night’s research, but it was perhaps best to go with two. Just in case anything proved difficult to find. It was strange for the fiend to ask for such a sudden change in their previous deal, making him the sole holder of… well, holding souls. It seemed that things had been going well at the club, but that Riddler wanted a change... Perhaps Ed did as well…?

Such a switch in wants was suspicious, he couldn’t go without knowing everything any longer. It was time for a little digging. And he was a master at retrieving information. If something in the fiend changed, he had to prepare himself for the worst. It was time to take matters actively into his own hands.


	6. Stoke the Flames

The demon was sent back home to an overly tidy apartment, Oswald’s cleaners having arrived expecting a body only to find the place empty and yet they still did their job then left. It saved them the disposal.

Oswald spent the next two days furiously fetching every book he could manage to find on demons, fiends, and evil spirits. Something in the mix had to be correct, they all seemed to go together in often mixings. Ed had described them as a fiend before, but not a devil. So that ruled out all of those. When souls were mentioned usually it became a topic of ghosts, though the ghosts were the souls of those lost, not the ones losing souls to these creatures. 

His club had been scrubbed of every scrap of evidence of Riddler’s murder in his office. The gunshot never even being reported given the club’s close proximity to the Narrows. It could have been any gunshot. With the Director of Communications missing, there was no room on the headlines for gunshots heard during a charity event. Luckily his wish to murder Oswald was something he didn’t want recorded, not needing his last known location to be at the man’s club. As far as the public was concerned, no one got hurt and was a pointless venture to dig into.

During this cleanup it gave Oswald more than enough time to gather notes, while still finishing his deal with the orphanage and working out zoning restrictions for his new investment into his curb appeal. On the side he had a notepad filled with carefully written notes, going over everything he could find on the subject of creatures that took souls. There were quite a few from Japan, some from Africa, several across Europe. It was a small stack, much smaller in comparison to what he started with.

Smaller things took Ed and Riddler out on contention with other fiend types. He was not a woman, he wasn’t very amphibian like, his apartment seemed to be lacking in goats. Easy things narrowed his findings further. Still, hardly anything that Ed had told him or Riddler had corrected him on matched up well with what he knew. 

So either he was looking in the wrong location, which he didn’t believe he was. Or, more likely, their species had poor information. 

Drat.

Ed and Riddler were not an Egyptian hideous animal combination. So likely not that. They did not appear to be a man’s head on a flaming wheel, so out went that Japanese folklore. There was something specifically called a soul-eater in Africa, but as far as he knew they didn’t shapeshift into animals like these creatures could. This was all leading him nowhere. 

Time to start again. Fantastic.

Fiends who used charms and seduction. That was likely a number of them, but it was the next largest topic he knew about Ed and Riddler’s species so he’d have to settle with it. There was a large cycloptic bat with a _‘very large penis’_ from Africa, the Popobawa, still it went on with the animal transformations. There was the ludvérc who had connections to Hungary, but it often took the form of dead relatives. Considering his dead parents weren’t trying to get into his bed, not likely. The Lilu or Lilin were out as well, being only singular fiends each when Ed spoke of his kind being a _species_. 

The one that finally caught his attention was the Succubus. Or rather, the Incubus. A succubus was a female demon, the Incubus was the male version. It spoke much of sin, sex, impregnation at night on sleeping victims. Not too much of it sounded like Ed, or Riddler, though it was supposed to be that the children of said creatures were very attractive and intelligent. That either of the species would drain the strength and energy from their chosen victims after seducing them. Now that sounded like them! 

He continued reading over species to be sure he had the right creature, but only a few fit the bill like the Incubus did, and others along those lines had some sort of animal transformation. Which… he couldn’t deny, he wasn’t sure if they could do that, but it didn’t seem to be them. 

Even running his finger down the short paragraphs about Succubi and Incubi, he didn’t see an astounding amount of similarities in what he heard from them and what the book said. There were connections, but they ended almost as soon as they began.

Odd that pages spoke about them being able to change their gender between male and female, though he would’ve thought Ed would have chosen to approach him as female if he was to make an automatic call on how to seduce men. Even a woman approaching a woman would likely get better results than a man. So it would make sense that if that were true, Ed would’ve changed several times already. 

Oswald wasn’t entirely sure what to believe for certain, but he had an idea of what he might be dealing with. He had their species, but knew nothing of them. At least then he could softly interrogate answers from whichever Ed he met next, if he had the emotional Ed, he stood a much better chance of getting answers. 

Step two, now that Step one was complete, was to move in for further information. It read that the Incubi and Succubi prayed on multiple people of every variety. So why Riddler would want to focus on him being the one delivering souls was beyond his knowing at the moment. Maybe in hopes that the souls taken would confuse the hex and allow him to eat his true soul instead?

The man closed his books, covering his notes and pushing them all into a drawer in his desk. This would need to wait. He’d see either Ed or Riddler that night at the club. It’d been two days of work but he’d gotten what he wanted, an answer. Rather, a likely answer.

How the night went… he could simply hope he didn’t feel a need to murder Riddler again by the end of their meeting. 

 

When Oswald saw one of the two personalities of the fiend stroll into his once again dimly lit club, music loud and dance floor full of people looking to have a good time, he smiled excitedly in response. He hardly noticed, though the demon approaching him did. 

“You seem to be in quite the good mood.” The sparkle in the eye told Oswald everything he needed to know for identity, the smile smooth and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes genuine. He caught both as the fiend leaned in closely to speak closer to his ear in order to be heard.

“Ed, it’s wonderful to have you here.” Oswald exchanged a brief, friendly hug with Ed before an arm extended to his office. “After you, where we can talk.” He followed behind the demon, waving off his men to guard the club floor as the pair walked around patrons to get to the man’s office at the back. 

Even with his back on Ed, closing the door behind them to better muffle out the music he could feel the demon’s eyes on him. A gaze that gave him a chill and he knew he had Ed’s attention.

“You… seem to be in possession of a few souls, Oz.” Ed had since taken up the habit of the nickname, brown eyes unable to leave the man who slowly limped by to get to his brand new desk. It was easier to burn the old one and buy new than to get blood out of certain furniture pieces. “You’ve… been busy.”

“I’ve actually been efficient.” Oswald corrected, grinning widely at his own genius and ready to brag about what he’d done. “You see, I have multiple contracts around the city with many different organizations. And sometimes you need to update contracts based on new laws, coding violations, fire marshals, anything that regulates safety, etcetera, I could go on. Many people do not read fine print, and when you have some of the finest legal consult in the city… others assume that legal documentation is final and legitimate. I did not use many, but I changed wording on several businesses to see what may happen.” 

Ed shifted under his green blazer, black vest over a much newer white shirt than the last garment he was seen in, black slacks keeping his legs covered. A tie in green that matched his jacket sat around his neck to keep him looking more business than casual. “You… you certainly did it. You did accomplish… collecting a few.” 

Ed seemed distracted, and that provided just the time to strike. “I have done research as well during our parting. I do believe I know what you are, however, the information resources seemed short of information at best.” He admitted, knowing the best way to approach this was with honesty. “Edward, are you and Riddler, perchance… an Incubus?” His brow twitched upward as he asked, head lilting to the side curiously.

The fiend hesitated, not having expected to be asked such a thing that night. What Oswald might think he knew put some fear in Ed, knowing that many books covered outdated propaganda that the churches and narrow-minded people of the time believed. “We are, yes.”

Oswald was all too pleased with his research turning out correct, posture straightening at the guess. “Ahh, so my instinct was correct to believe it true. I must say, the books do not at all capture what I’ve seen of you thus yet.”

“The authors were misfed information from centuries ago, what they have is almost entirely from human accounts of what they think we’ve done.” The rumor that they raped people in their sleep was as true as the amount of humans that did the same thing. They were no different from human kind, but people in the medieval era needed something to blame. And just so happened to hit a species with their panic. Most of what was reported was false and despised by the Incubus and Succubus community, however, they liked the names the English speaking humans gave their kind. Those they kept for human translation.

Oswald knew it best to go to the source of information, rather than take what the books said to be as completely true. “So I suppose you wish to be fed? Lock the door and come get whatever portion of these souls you need.” He allowed, leaning back against his desk to remove weight from his leg. It’d been tender as of late, it being jostled, turned, and abused too much to allow him to stand for long periods at a time without discomfort. 

“Yes, Mr. Cobblepot.” Ed agreed instantly, going back to lock the office doors as requested, his gate increased upon his return to the other side of the room. Long legs crossing the space in no time at all. 

“No Oz?”

“This is business, isn’t it?”

Oswald chuckled, always enjoying being lead to be the boss of any situation. “It is, yes.” To give him power was a thing he took to very well.

“Then what is it that you want me to do, Mr. Cobblepot? You are in charge.” As much as Ed couldn’t use charm on Oswald, he was learning ways slowly to compliment and make the shorter man feel more powerful. It took the span of two days, but he and Riddler managed to work out an algorithm that should lead to the best reaction of Oswald that they could get. If not, there was a backup set of steps to follow to ensure that he wouldn’t be shot or gutted that night. 

He only had so many suits in stock. 

Oswald’s eyes changed in expression, going from friendly and curious to amused and egotistical in moments. A smirk pulled at a corner of his mouth, glancing up to Ed under his brow. “I want you to eat, Edward. This is what I promised you and I intend to live up to every promise I make.” No matter how long or short lived that was, he lived up to each and every promise. It wasn’t just for Ed or Riddler though. He was curious to see if his hex affected the souls he collected at all. If so, Ed would be cut and he’d get a taste of what was in the demon’s system again. It was a win-win. “Now have I worked for nothing, or will you feed yourself and stop wasting away in front of me?”

Ed moved in closer next to Oswald, standing beside the man so their left shoulders were nearly flush. “I’d much rather eat.” The fiend answered, turning to better square off to Oswald. His approach was not unlike Riddler’s but it changed, Oswald could notice. Where Riddler clutched his face, Ed cupped his jaw. When Riddler had coaxed his mouth open, Ed had waited for a response. Where a tongue had found shelter to taste the soul he was taking, there was now a similar muscle instead coaxing him along to join. 

One of force and one of patience. 

However, where one was willing to get hurt to get what he wanted, the other had a wandering hand that was less than trustworthy. 

The familiar kissing was much like his challenge with Riddler two days ago, the same head tilting, the same maneuvering, the same breathing that he knew after last encounter meant that a soul was being taken from him. What wasn’t the same was the encouraging strokes of the demon’s thumb over his cheekbone, how gently he caressed his face. How the Incubus’ hand slid from his cheek to let fingertips brush tenderly across his adam’s apple. Ed’s free hand rested on the desk on his other side while their lips stayed pressed together, hot breath mixing while tongues licked at each other curiously. 

Oswald wasn’t as distracted as he was before, the lack of blood giving him a sober experience of having energy leave his body of someone else’s will. He wasn’t so tipsy to notice the hand that sat palm against the curve of his neck, or when the thumb to said hand decided it should occupy the opposite side of his throat. One by one, several souls left his body. He couldn’t necessarily feel them leaving each, but he knew something felt off about his body in the moment of being fed from.

The hand around his throat adjusted, the webbing to Ed’s thumb pressed snugly against his trachea. This was a bad sign.

Oswald’s own hand reached up to take Ed’s wrist, clutching at it in warning with a tug though it didn’t move. Instead it clutched, making its presence even better known. The pressure staying strong even through the kissing, making it slightly harder to breathe. And even as Ed took yet another soul, which should soothe the beast, it had him gripping harder.

Breathing wasn’t a control Oswald was ready to give up to just anyone, the man taking his moment to clamp his teeth on Ed’s tongue, biting hard enough to break the moment and the textured flesh around the muscle. Red dripped off Ed’s tongue, pulling back when Oswald let go, a hand shooting over his mouth in some shock to display the red drops on his fingertips. “Whah’ waff daht?” 

The question was obscured by a sore tongue and a hand, but Oswald was certain he got the jist in order to respond. “You were getting handsy, Mister.” He scolded, the man adjusting the collar of his shirt with a frown in Ed’s direction, 

“I waff…” It took a moment for the information to settle in before his eyes popped wider, an embarrassed blush creeping onto his face. “Osff… I ahpaulogisff.” He attempted to say he was sorry, hands clenched into fists in front of his hips. “I uhh… I gaht… exfited… I fink.” He did his best to explain, despite the handicap in his mouth. 

“You got excited, so you… began to choke me? Forgive me if that seems somewhat unbelievable in my position.”

“No, I’m sahry.” The swelling began to recede with his increased healing, giving the Incubus a moment before he could semi-clearly explain. “I’m sohrry, it’s noht meant to be ahn attack. I get excited ahnd it hahpens. Somefing I juss do.” He had issues with people he liked. He could get caught up in them, when they started fighting he’d apply more pressure… such was the difficult life of being prone to murdering others.

Oswald considered this, hobbling towards Ed to take the belt off his hips, holding the black leather strap in his hand. “If this is such a problem you don’t notice it happening, then if you wish to keep feeding from me we’ll need to establish ground rules. Do you want to keep eating?”

“I do.” Kissing Oswald was actually quite a pleasant experience and going back for that would be enough, but he’d pretend eating was his goal. He never went over it much in his mind, but he was becoming fond of Oswald himself. He wouldn’t be as encouraging for Riddler to seek out partnership if he wasn’t also interested in the person. To find one being both of them could equally find attractive qualities in… it was difficult. Or a being that accepted there was two of him to attempt to please at one time… Despite his less than predictable reactions, there was plenty positive about Oswald. 

People often did not take well to being choked.

Which… was inconvenient when it could happen out of his attention.

“Then we’ll make you more aware of where your hands are.” He stated simply, moving behind Ed to belt his wrists together behind his lower back, putting the buckle in place. “When you go to break this, you should be aware something is trying to stop you, yes? So use that big brain of yours and decide not to break the belt. Deal?”

“Agreed.” Ed adjusted his shoulders not used to being bound for anything, but it was interesting. His hands clutched at each other behind his back as Oswald took position before him again.

“Then we may continue.” The man was fully aware Ed could likely snap that belt like dry twine if he wished, but the point was to be aware, not to tie him down entirely. Oswald took part of the lead, pressing his mouth to Ed’s to venture further into the Incubus’ feeding. He said they were capable of storing souls, and he could give the demon snacks on the run. 

Ed found himself happily distracted by the amount of souls Oswald had in his possession, feeling a warm tingling in his chest that in two days the man had collected what seemed to be a pile of souls just to feed him. To make him happy and live to their deal. His chest crackled and heated, rounded shoulders flexing forward. The arm movements make the belt creak, the sound hitting the demon’s ears and forced himself to rethink reaching forward. He must have done something right because Oswald pet a hand over his slicked back hair, hand clutched to the lapel of his blazer. Positive encouragement he did well with. He liked being told he was doing a good job, of course he knew it, but appreciation went a long way.

Appreciation being something Oswald noticed Ed always seemed to react well to. Riddler wanted to be glorified, Ed wanted to be recognized. Riddler wanted to be worshipped, Ed wanted to be praised. It was a fine balance, but it wasn’t all that difficult. The man was a chameleon of satisfactions, able to twist himself to whatever someone wanted him to be. It’s how he wormed his way into the hearts of the higher ups, how he got his recognition and trust. How he got his power. Learn enough about the right people and they were putty in one’s hands.

When Ed felt he was getting rather full he stopped his inhilations, closing the gap between his lips, kissing Oswald softly instead. It might have been because he wanted to, it might have been because of habit… either way, it felt like what he should do after feeding from someone. This was his thanks to them for sharing. He would enjoy more to grab hold of Oswald in some manner, but he rather liked this belt and didn’t want to see it broken.

Ed wasn’t sure if he liked Oswald as much as Riddler did, but he did appreciate the human and his usually accommodating nature. He was nice when needed, and nasty when provoked. The business it seemed like he had around the city, free as a bird but likely committing every crime in the book… it was fascinating. How Oswald got away with it all… He was scott-free and not revered. He threw charity parties for orphans the same night he ripped out a man’s throat and crushed his face in. 

Demons and fiends were normally only impressed of those of their own and similar species. Demon-Human consented relationships were rare that… humans simply weren’t that interesting. They were boring nine-to-five workers that lived their lives as told. The most excitement he found in humanity was in their dead, and the people who had murdered them. Thinking on it, who knew? He may have processed some of Oswald’s work and never knew better. There were some very impressive killers in Gotham, impressive killings accomplished by mediocre, dim-witted people. Lackeys. The type of follower Oz had plenty of and no doubt used to save himself on several occasions.

Oswald was an interesting human. He could be mistaken for a demon if one didn’t know better. He could blend in with fiends of Ed’s kind. 

Ed might not care as deeply for Oz as Riddler in comparison, but he couldn’t disagree with his counterpart’s taste in humans. Oswald was a special breed. A special human he really wouldn’t mind getting to court as well.

The kissing stopped, faces hardly parting from each other as Oswald developed a smirk, a pink having developed across his nose and into his cheeks in the time Ed’s eyes had been closed. “You remained longer than necessary.”

“You didn’t stop me.”

“You behaved to the new rules, you were allowed what you wished.”

“You let me kiss you as a… _treat_ for not breaking the deal?” Ed chuckled, amused by the reasoning in this.

“I am quite the prize for good behavior.”

“You’re using positive encouragement to domesticate me. Oswald Cobblepot, you underhanded human.” Ed grinned, now seeing what it was Oswald was trying. He was working his own courting scheme, he wanted to praise him, keep him around. 

The man rolled his eyes to the side with a smile, acting bashful with a wave of his hand. “Such flattery will get you nowhere, Ed.” He twisted his finger in the air, spinning it in a circular motion. The fiend understood, turning around to allow Oswald to remove the belt from his wrists. “But do go on.” The leather strap was removed, the human walking around the demon to return the belt to him directly.

Ed watched as Oswald circled him like a shark in water, seeing how his limp had changed over the last several days. “Have your joints been bothering you more than usual? The normal rotation of your hip has developed a noticeable tick where your knee attempts to buckle right as your foot touches ground.”

“Has it? Haven’t noticed.” Oswald lied, moving back to his chair to take a seat once Ed had his accessory back, resisting the urge to rub his hand over his knee though his ankle was doing no better. Both of them affected his hip, and his spine after that. He felt sore wherever possible.

The fiend made his way about the desk, sliding his belt into place and fastening it to keep his pants up, standing behind Oswald as he pondered. “How high can you raise the trouser leg on your injured side? I may have a temporary soothing solution.” It was no long-term fix, Oswald may be beyond any point of long-term repair for all he knew, but at the moment he had something small he could offer.

“...Above my knee, why?” Oswald was cautious, eyes narrowing at the Incubus and what he could be suggesting. 

Ed unbuttoned his blazer and vest, hands loosening his tie as he gave further instruction. “Then do so, however high you can manage it to expose the problem areas.” 

Oswald could only stare in disbelief as Ed began undressing from the waist up, folding his shirt, vest, tie, and blazer on the desk for safe keeping. There left the fiend in only his well combed hair, trousers, and polished shoes. It… was not the least appreciable scene he’d had his eyes on, Oswald would admit to that. “And what, pray tell, are you planning here, Ed? I don’t think a half nude anything is usually the solution one imagines.” 

“Sit on the desk, pull your pant leg up, remove your shoe and sock. Trust me, I work on people.”

“The people you work on are dead, Ed.”

“My point proven, not a complaint from a customer yet.” He grinned, his expression changing to become more suave. He gave Oswald a confident stare, something the man had seen before.

Oz got up from his chair, removing his shoe and sock, leaning back against the desk before shimmying himself onto it. “You know that… charm whatever it is of yours doesn’t work on me. What are you attempting to pull?” Perhaps he could’ve had better wording there…

“I know it doesn’t persuade you. You don’t need persuading.” Ed confirmed, taking the club owner’s chair from him, encouraging movement from Oswald by patting his still clothed thigh with his hand, sitting on the front third of the chair. “Expose the leg and give it to me.” Power crackled in Ed’s chest, his charm running strong to the point of almost snapping at each pop of energy.

Oswald knew the charm refused to sink in for him, but everything that Ed said now sounded like a soothing command for him to follow. What worse could come of this than allowing the demon to eat souls around his own… He gave up with a huff, leaning forward to take his trouser sleeve up his leg, settling it above his knee. “Fine, now what do you need from me?” He asked with some impatience, worried somewhat internally that Ed was going to grab his knee and completely twist it out of joint, but that was a fear he had in several other cases as well. One day it’d come out and he’d be truly crippled then…

“I need nothing else from you, Oz. What I would like though is for you to relax.” The fiend’s voice was nearly to a purr, some of Riddler’s usual gravelled tones mixed in and it sounded like a fantasy. “I don’t know why entirely, but I assume all of my species has a connection to warmth. Perhaps it’s where we’re from or its a long-string of evolutionary changes, but when I use my charm to seduce my targets it feels like a fire is growing in my body. It crackles, it pops, it sparks, but also my body temperature increases the more I’m in use of it.”

The man took in the explanation, leaning back on his hands as he watched Ed position his leg just so. “So you use your charm to raise your temperature…”

“And I can provide a warm, more relaxing heat pad for your leg. Heat helps alleviate many joint and muscle pains. Even if it’s only for a short time.” Ed explained the rest, pressing Oswald’s knee into his collarbone while having the rest of the leg against his torso. Both hands massaged the leg carefully, one around the knee and calf, the other closer to the ankle. Ed found the task easier to accomplish since he’d just eaten well, his energy topped up and running efficiently. “Is that better?” He questioned after a minute sat in silence, hands still gently rubbing over what bits of leg they held.

Oswald had never been able to get so much warmth from one source to get so much of his leg at once. Ed felt like a radiator that was safe to touch when he was exposed to skin contact like this. Like the heat one felt opening a black car parked in the sun on a summer day. “It is… surprisingly more relaxing than I first thought.” He was grateful for the help, it was more than anyone usually tried for him. Normally he got an ice pack and people stared at him holding it to the joints like something horrible would pop out from his leg. It was a limb, not a sideshow. 

“Mhmm, I told you to trust me.”

“I don’t suppose you make house calls, do you?” Oswald asked as more of a joke, chuckling despite the nervousness in his tone. To his standards he was incredibly exposed at the moment. His two most vulnerable points in the hands of a creature who could likely tear him apart if he wished. Even if Ed was only human, he’d still be as cautious.

Ed shrugged a shoulder in reply, resting his chin on the top of the leg he held, Oz’s foot dangling at crotch level where toes kept bumping into what they shouldn’t when Ed would rub small circles around the sore ankle he controlled. He ignored it though, not as responsive to physical prodding if he was unwilling. “I think I could easily be convinced to. You are in charge of my employ. If the boss needs me to show up at odd hours, I will. I very rarely miss a day of work.” He was incredibly punctual and he kept it that way as much as he could. Some injury days he had to call in, but he never got sick from human ailments, it kept him very reliable.

The man considered his options, fingers drumming on the desk beneath him. “Then I insist for the betterment of our partnership, you should come to the manor once a week to continue these… therapy visits.” That’s what they could be called. Therapy.

“Well, what kind of business partner would I be if I didn’t do something for our conjoined benefit?” He questioned, adjusting himself to have a different angle on the leg to cover more of the outer side. “I would enjoy that, I think even Riddler could handle that. He’d be best on days where it hurts more.”

“How so?”

“His charm is stronger than mine, I believe it’s his personality that allows him to better use it. Better confidence, stronger will, more direct. He can use it to the maximum power we have, he could create quite the heat.” Ed didn’t mind that he couldn’t use it as well, it still worked plenty for him and he couldn’t complain. It got the job done. 

“Well, as true as that may be, you are doing a splendid job as is.” Oswald still praised, relaxing slightly more each passing minute. 

“Thank you.”

 

They remained as they were for a time, soon interrupted by a jittering of the doorknob and then knocking. Oswald rolled his eyes, glancing at the clock. “I give them credit where it’s due. I thought they would barge in much sooner.” He sighed, looking over his shoulder at the door. “Little busy!” He shouted back to whoever knocked, his body tensing with his raised volume. There was some talking on the other side that Ed couldn’t make out, but Oz seemed to be able to hear it just fine. “Here’s an idea: Get rid of him!” His voice filled the room, glaring back at the door. There was silence, a muffle and then nothing. “Moron.”

“Do you need to go?” 

“It’s likely better that I did. Can’t leave them alone for any amount of time. I apologize for the interruption.” 

Ed nodded simply, looking up to the man above him. “You are busy, it is understandable.” He allowed as be pulled back, gently lowering Oswald’s leg where it could hang freely over the desk lip. “It was enjoyable while it lasted.”

“It was.” 

The Incubus stood from the seat, retrieving his shirt first to pull on, needing to open his trousers to tuck the upper garment in neatly. “I’d suggest booking an appointment for your next therapy session, I may now be quite busy with this new career path I’m exploring. My schedule may fill quickly.” He grinned, buttoning up to his collar before retrieving his tie to knot around his neck again. 

“If I come to you saying I need an appointment you will make room for me.” Oswald spoke with confidence, replacing his sock and shoe, setting his pant leg back into place. “If you wish to receive your payment, I think you’ll find clearing your schedule to be much more simple than you imagine.” He slid himself carefully off the desk, gaining an expression of surprise as his feet settled onto the floor. It certainly was no cure, but he couldn’t deny that it didn’t feel as bad as it was. His lips pursed, brows bouncing upwards while his head tilted. “Well that is quite the surprise. If I didn’t already know you were a fiend, I’d think you were a witch.”

“I’ll warn you at this current time, I have an allergy to being burned alive.” Oswald’s dead stare at the demon expressed his confusion on whether or not Ed was telling the truth, unsure if he could believe what he was being told or to laugh at the joke. “I’m kidding. Burning doesn’t really do anything.” He waved off, setting his vest over his shoulders and buttoning it in front of his ribs.

The man nodded with a smile, waving his index finger at Ed as he began the walk to the doors of his office, the sway in his walk less obvious than when he’d entered. “Ahh, that is funny then. You are such a trickster, when you wish it.” He stood at the door, unlocking it but left his hand on the knob. “I meant to discuss the details of your job tonight, but seeing as I must babysit these children…!” Oswald’s voice got away from him, taking a moment to compose himself with closed eyes. They opened again to meet with Ed’s, seeing the Incubus slide on his green suit jacket. “I will compose a list and a contract tonight and have the draft sent to your apartment by the late afternoon at most.” 

Ed nodded as he took in the information, storing it away to keep aware of it for later. “I will keep my eyes peeled for that. Thank you, Oz, for this opportunity. And your company.”

Oswald let a small grin grace his face, the shorter body reaching upwards to correct Ed’s tie for him, adjusting the material just so for the most professional appearance. It bothered him when small details like that were off, it was a simple fix. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He promised, letting his hands fall back to the doorknob when the accessory met his standard. “I will see you… shortly, I suppose. And schedule me for another appointment of therapy in four days, this feels… actually delightful in comparison.” 

“As long as you bring payment, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Trust me, I’ll have more payment than you’ll know what to do with.” Oswald promised, opening the door for Ed to leave first. The demon gave him a grin before leaving, hands folding casually behind his back.

“We’ll look forward to it.”

 

As Oswald promised, a package was sent to Ed’s apartment by the late morning, what was curious about the package was that it was locked up. It was held closed by two locks that had no keys, and inside the package was some sort of secondary packaging or a box. As much as he could twist the padlocks open, he preferred the challenge, if there even was one present. 

Ed had gotten a set of lockpicks he kept around, getting into the packaging to reveal a long thin puzzle box of sorts. It had hundreds of seams, miniscule cuts in the wood’s pattern to produce thousands of options as far as solving went. It was certainly one way to keep documents private.

Within the minute the box was open and a long envelope was retrieved that held the rough draft of a business contract with Oswald. If there was something else Ed was learning he enjoyed about the human it was his organizational and business skills. He kept things so professional, yet everything was so personal. 

He read over the papers with Riddler actively present, the two working together to pick apart the wording, the loopholes, and the clauses. Some things needed adjustment, but overall it wasn’t a disagreeable contract. As per a piece of cardstock with print on it, he burned the rough draft, it having contained direct information regarding souls and fiendish living. The official documentation as the card also described, would have several of its terms changed in interest of privacy. The contract would be filed away with others Oswald had, as Ed was going to be a legal hire for his organization. 

The instructions card was burnt along with the rough draft, everything in a cookpot on the stove as it was the best fireplace his apartment could offer. The pot contained the smoldering fire, burning the papers at a slow pace, keeping the smoke to a minimum where he could. The remains of the contract were checked and found to be well burnt, no hidden words left. The evidence then flushed down his sink to be lost forever. 

He called Oswald to give his opinions on the agreement before settling on when changes could be made and an official signing could happen. The only thing left was his own job. His completely legal job. 

As much as it was in him to flat out resign, maybe requesting a long-term leave of absence was better. Just in case things with Oswald didn’t turn out. He had to have some sort of back up plan, that was if he didn’t need to leave the city. Ed typed out a letter explaining his need for a break from the department, making a copy soon after as he’d give one first to records and then to their commissioner.

Gordon.

How bad could it go?

 

“You need time away from here?” Gordon questioned incredulously, glancing up to Ed from his desk.

“Yes. I’ve been exploring the migraines I get and they are apparently signs of stress. They’ve been happening more frequently lately. So it seems the time to step back, reassess myself and reset the ol’ noggin.” Ed gave a goofy grin, having a reputation to keep up with the boys in blue that he’d built over several years. 

A forced laugh from the side of Jim’s desk reminded all those who chose to ignore him that Harvey refused to leave the room. “You? Getting stressed here? I’ve never seen your psychotic ass more happy than when you’re stabbing fruit with blunt weapons or… or makin’ those splatter blood-looking paintings up a wall.”

“Pollok.”

“No, I’m Bullock.”

Ed’s face dead panned for a moment, eyes staring into his brow. Just a moment longer and he could rid himself of these morons. If things worked out with Oswald he may never need to return. He let the comment slide, eyes annoyedly rolled back with a heavy sinking of his eyelids. “Riiiight. Look, Jim, this may change in the future. If you are all _so_ stuck in a case and need another set of hands I’m willing to come back to assist when you’ve run out of options.” He likely wouldn’t be able to cut ties entirely, he assumed that from the start, but as much as he could rid himself of the better.

“It’ll be a damn shame to see you leave, Ed. You were the best we’ve had in that department that I’ve ever seen.” Gordon stood from his chair, offering his hand out to Ed with a smile that seemed to read _‘uncomfortable’_ a great deal of the time. 

“I know.” What would they do without him, honestly? If not for his findings, questions, and observations they were a lost group of children in a dark room. And he had the light switch. “Goodbye, but not farewell, Jim.” Ed took the offered hand to shake it, appreciating the professional courtesy. He took one look at Harvey, nodding his head to the detective and otherwise nosey man. “Dancing gorilla.”

“Freakshow.” Bullock returned, tipping his hat at Ed, only too happy to see the forensics man leave.

“Charming, as always.” 

“You can pick up your last pay in just over a week. Hope you… lose the stress soon, Ed.” Jim wished, sitting himself back down and flattening his tie back to his torso with a hand.

“Will do, Jim.” Ed agreed, getting up to leave the office, half way out the door when the detective’s voice followed him.

“If you got your head screwed on right, maybe it’d stop hurtin’!” 

Harvey’s voice followed him, but Ed continued on, ignoring the neanderthal in order to get out without a fight. He had to leave the department clean. He needed a fall back. He simply had to be sure that his pristine record stayed clean under Oswald’s employ. 

It would be a balance, but nothing he couldn’t manage. Oswald did well on his own so far, as did he. Together they should be a force to be reckoned with. 

Ed looked forward to seeing Oswald again, not able to see the club owner until a day and a half later in the evening. He brought back the puzzle box he was given with the draft contract, walking in the front door of the club, hearing the usual groans of people in front of the line watching him stroll in without a word to the man at the door. They knew Ed well enough by then, the green accent color and the smile was more than enough.

The Incubus wormed his way between the people on the dancefloor, heading immediately for the office when he didn’t see Oswald at his usual booth to watch the floor. 

A knock on the door to the office brought a voice calling back over the music, Ed straining himself to hear. 

“Whoo iiiis iiiit?” There was a musical call from inside the office, recognizing the higher tone to be Oswald’s.

“It’s Edward!” He shouted through the barrier, not sure if that was enough.

A short beat of silence happened from inside, having Ed doubt if he was heard. “Ed, come in!” He followed the permission, opening the door to see Oswald shimmering in the light of the office, shutting the door behind him. Sweat dripped off the man’s brow, a smile on his face, a pipe in hand that leaned against his shoulder and the usual jacket he’d finish his style with was missing. “Just the man I wanted to see!” He pointed at Ed, his smile continuing. 

“You seem to have company.” 

A man bound in a chair looked at Ed with pleading eyes, bruised and bloody as he shouted around a cloth gag in his mouth. “Don’t mind him, he’s just being something of a negative nancy.” Oswald waved a hand to brush off the man’s presence. “Now, as per your suggestions I adjusted the contract accordingly, some things I am solid on but wording was changed. So, I’d like you to read over the new draft and give me your thoughts.” He withdrew Ed’s paperwork from a locked drawer, setting it on the desk face. 

The man tied up continued to call out, trying to get Ed’s sympathy. Oswald rolled his eyes as he tapped the pipe to his shoulder. “Excuse me, one moment.”

“By all means.” The fiend allowed, his hand floating towards the man bound to allow Oswald’s previous meeting to continue. “I see this is already coded as you suggested, it does read as legitimate.” He commented, eyes scanning the pages covering the details of his job in vague description.

“Thanks to your input on it, it should cover everything we need. I’m attempting to replace who I usually have drawing up these agreements, like the first draft, and I want you to take this position.” Oswald approached the man with a frown, raising the pipe over his head. “Do. You. Mind? I’m. Trying. To. Discuss. Business!” Oswald enunciated each word with a whack of the pipe to whatever limb he could line up as the weapon came down. The bound man yelled as best he could behind his gag, tears rolling down his face. Oswald used a hand to fix his bangs back in place over his forehead, the hair losing its hold in his physical efforts. 

“Do you not have men to do this brunt work for you?” Ed asked as his eyes went over the last few points. 

“I do. However, they are all brutes with too many muscles and not enough planning.” Oswald explained, walking back to the desk while using the pipe as a cane out of habit of having a long object in hand. “I cannot hit as hard as they can. Which is the desired effect. When I hit I don’t have to knock someone out, I can concuss. When I strike a limb, I can’t break it immediately. I fracture it many times over until it breaks.” He was in a good mood, which usually had him naturally holding back strength in his hits, when he was in a rage he was capable of much more.

Ed chuckled, setting the contract on the desk before returning his sight to the club owner. “I see, using your size to prolong the torture, that is a strategic tactic.” 

_“Have I mentioned that I appreciate him?”_ Riddler eyed the bound man in the chair, leaning against the desk next to Ed. 

“Why thank you, Edward.” Oswald was pleased at the compliment, setting the pipe on his desk as he got out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “Now, is the contract agreeable?” 

“It is. I would be comfortable signing this and fulfilling what is being described. I put in a leave at work two days ago, I am ready for labor when needed.” Ed’s schedule was now open and free, able to live up to a life he wished to follow. 

Oswald took a pen, setting it on the documents in front of Ed. “If you are pleased, sign your life away.” He encouraged, sitting down in his chair to relax after the long time he’d been beating the man in his office. It was then he noticed the puzzle box in Ed’s hand. “Excellent, you brought the box with you. You can store the contract in it, keep it in a safe place from other hands.” He was glad to see it was brought back for use.

Ed glanced down to the box, setting it on the box on the desk. “Keep it? This is a gift?”

“Yes, I would not have the patience to continually open it to store anything. I selected this with you in mind to both keep the draft away from eyes that shouldn’t see it, and it suits you. You enjoy your riddles and puzzles, you can put it among all the other items you’ve crammed together.” Oswald suggested to his partner, eyeing the box. How it opened, he didn’t know. It wasn’t likely he’d find out any time soon, but he didn’t care.

Ed stared at the box a little more, not having assumed that was its intention. _“This was for us?”_ It was meant for them to keep? _“He doesn’t know, but he’s playing right along.”_ Riddler’s hand raised to place fingers on his chin, a plethora of ideas flooding his mind at once. 

“Thank you, Oswald, this was a nice gesture.” 

_“Oooh… I know exactly what we need to do. And by we, I of course mean me.”_ Riddler gestured to himself with fanned fingers. _“I take the next therapy day. Your services are being put on hold, Eddie.”_

Great… 

He supposed he no longer had to prepare anything. He told his other half he was free to try his way, so he could only see where things went. And step in if necessary.


	7. Making a House Call

To say Ed was somewhat unnerved by what Riddler could be planning was putting it lightly. It had to have been a secret when he realized he lost a day at some point, had gone to sleep, but woke up a little over 24 hours later. The fact that he was being locked out worried him. Nothing good ever came from not knowing what was happening with his more cruel side. These never turned out well for him. There was always something to clean up later that he wasn’t prepared for. 

When it hit the morning of the second _therapy_ appointment he was forcefully shoved from the controls, head splitting as Riddler made space for himself and ejected his better half. Now, it was time for a show.

His showing of just how well he could court Oswald.

A suit stored for special occasions was taken out of its protective garment case, adorned for just such a time of going a little overboard. Riddler took on the matching silk green trousers and suit jacket over a white collared shirt, almost metallic black tie and a black vest. Hair was slicked back and a bowler hat slid over the hair style in expert fashion as to not mess up his locks. With glasses on and a well wrapped gift in hand, polished dress shoes in place on his feet, he was ready. 

Time to make some romance.

 

Riddler got himself to the other side of the city to Oswald’s manor, needing a low brow cab but it did the trick. The fiend whistled on his way to the door, present held carefully between his hand and hip for safe keeping. One ring of the doorbell brought a henchman Riddler had seen before at the club, but as of yet remained nameless to him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Cobblepot.”

“...Why?”

“I have an appointment.”

“Oh. ...wuh-d’ya have there?” 

Riddler took in the man’s pointing at the gift then rolled his eyes annoyedly. “Is it any of your business? Are you going to let me in any time this millenia or do I need to answer every pointless question you have? I fear we’ll both be dead before we hit the last of them.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get the boss.” The man turned away, letting the demon enter the house. 

Intelligent help was so incredibly hard to find… 

Riddler waited in the entry way, tapping his fingers against the box he held impatiently. After several minutes and an annoyed watch check later, the man came back into view, gesturing an arm towards the hell. “G’head. He’ll be waitin’ in his office. Four rooms down, s’on the right.” 

It was about time. “You are the pride and joy of your service and your family.” The Incubus replied with a heavy sigh and sarcasm, walking quickly by the man who let him in to head for the room he was told, one he’d been to before. The office, as he was directed to go to was empty. The door only two rooms down the hall, however, was cracked open. It had just the angle to see the office entrance from where he stood in the doorway. Always one to solve curiosity, Riddler stalked towards the open door, listening to the peace inside before poking his head in.

It was a bedroom. A master bedroom at that. Well furnished, dimly illuminated mostly by candle-lit lanterns around the wall. It was an interesting ambience to say the least. Bookcases along one wall caught his interest, wondering if there was anything worth reading even the cover of among the mix of colored spines shown on the shelves.

“Ahh, Edward, there you are.” A voice came from a corner of the room and sitting in a plush armchair was Oswald in the least state of dress the fiend had ever seen the human. He was still clothed, but the robe over pajamas, hair sitting flat and naturally on his head was a far cry from the usual style standard he held. Oswald’s eyes settled on the fiend for a moment, pausing in consideration. “Oh, you’re not Ed.” The expression was wrong and he couldn’t imagine Ed casually wearing that for a meeting. “Riddler, what a pleasant surprise. I hadn’t expected you’d visit today.” He corrected himself, noting the impeccably fitting suit and added hat. To wear an all green suit was certainly a style statement, but Riddler wore it incredibly well. 

Riddler could feel somewhat flattered that Oswald was getting quick to telling him and Ed apart already, that soothing information soaking in as he hated getting confused for the other in most cases. “I decided Ed had enough turns recently and it was my time to stretch his legs. I came to assist in this… _therapy_ he’s decided to pursue to help you.”

The man nodded thoughtfully, considering his option before agreeing with it in his head. He did say they would need to get along and both agree to his deal. Though Riddler’s statements didn’t sound like Ed had much choice this time. “Well then shut the door, lock it, and let us begin. I decided that if this is what is happening, it’d be easier if I dressed for the day afterwards.” His pajamas had much more room to move to expose his limb, whereas his suit was more of a hassle. 

“If it’s easier for you to manage then I’d encourage it.” The demon allowed, stepping forward to present Oswald with the gift he’d now been carrying for the majority of his morning before crossing the room to lock the bedroom door as instructed.

“A gift? It’s not my birthday.” Oswald stated suspiciously, taking the box in his hands to inspect it. It was wrapped very precisely, the paper pulled taut over every edge and each corner fitted to perfection. The dark metallic green paper wrapped with a white ribbon was an adorably fetching combination. It very much read the style of the being that wrapped it.

“Today is an Oswald Appreciation Day, whatever you wish, it will be done.” Riddler bowed his head forward, hand raising to hold his hat for a complete dip of his shoulders.

Oswald began to smile at the thought, squirming in his seat. “I do like the sounds of that. May I open this now?”

“Do you want to open it now? It is your day after all. You call every command and make each decision.” 

Oswald chuckled at the given direction, the man always adored being bestowed power and control. Two of his more favored things, especially in tandem together. “Then I open it now.” The ribbon was removed deftly, draping over his legs and the paper torn open in excitement. The box under the paper was opened and inside was styrofoam packaging. A square of the protective packaging sitting inside the box, fulfilling its duty of keeping its contents safe. The top half of styrofoam was removed, and laying inside was a glass figurine. “Did… Did someone tell you about this? Did Ed find out?” 

Riddler observed curiously at the question, shaking his head simply. “What is the context for ‘this’ in this moment?”

“Penguins. Did someone tell you?”

“No, is there something I should be aware of?”

Oswald shook his head, taking the glass penguin figurine out of the box to look at its details further. What would be white on an emperor penguin was crystal clear, any black plumage was replicated in a black colored glass. It was simple, it was rather cute, about the length of his palm in height. “No… nothing in particular. If you are unaware of this then it makes your guess all the more amusing.” Oswald paused like he wasn’t about to continue, but his mouth opened slightly in thought before continuing. “I’m often called Penguin as a nickname in several circles. I’m not particularly fond of it, but it’s catching on and it’s beginning to attach to me.” He admitted, turning the aquatic glass bird around to observe its little tail captured well in the art piece. 

“You share some qualities with it that are quite charming in comparison.” Riddler grinned in success, believing he managed to hit a positive note in a usually not so enjoyable thing for Oswald. Which made his victory all the sweeter for his masterfully made selection.

“I suppose so.” The man held up the bird more to admire its glinting in the light as he thought. “I should get a protective case and have this at the club office.” He decided in its placement quickly. “I’ll need a case that is nearly immovable, but if it wasn’t I can’t imagine this lasting too long. I have almost no company this little guy would safe with.” He stated. Between his dangerous work and his bumbling lackeys, the figurine was destined for the floor. If it had proper protection, however, it would be safer. And a small penguin that almost looked like ice would fit the theme and look of his club much better than the often dark, lived-in manor.

That comment made Riddler more pleased than anything. In the Incubus and Succubus courting process it was considered a great sign if the partner receiving the gift wished to display what was given to them. His species was proud of what it collected and gathered over their lives, making their living spaces seemingly untidy and cluttered with momento-filled shelving. They enjoyed their hoarding of memories and wished to present possible partners with things that could be displayed in their own collections. 

The demon composed himself, forcing to focus on the job at hand. “Is there anything else you wish to have for your appreciation day, Oz?” 

Oswald considered the question carefully, placing the glass penguin back in the bottom half of the styrofoam before setting it on the side table next to his chair. “I’ve been curious.”

“About what, dare I ask?”

“Soul consuming creatures.”

Riddler nodded, walking his way more in front of Oswald, feeling a happy sparkler-like reaction in his chest with the penguin remaining seen and not covered over. “What can I attempt to educate you further on?”

“It seems many creatures that consume souls are shapeshifters. According to human written books, I may add. Many read as having animal forms. Bats, dogs, so on… is that something you and Ed have? Do you have a variety of forms?” 

Oswald knew how to pick a topic of conversation, didn’t he? Hmm. “A variety, no. I am not that kind of shapeshifter. However, we do have two forms used. Our human form is one we grow into as children, that develops naturally as we age until we look completely human.” He explained at first, both hands gliding from chest level to his hips to display his human look as emphasis. “It’s when we become teenagers that we learn to shift back into our natural Incubus or Succubus forms.” It was a safety mechanism their bodies developed over time, finding comfort in a base human guise to keep them from capture. Help them blend in with the families they were placed into.

“I see.” Oswald took in the information like a sponge, adjusting his robe over his knee as he crossed his poor leg over his better. “Show me. What do you look like as… your natural self?” 

The demon’s eyes slipped to the side, thinking briefly about possible ramifications. He should be fine, there was no real harm in showing one vulnerable person what his other form was like. It’d never been an option before so the idea was even more odd as a request. He’d never had a human see that side of him, and neither had Ed. “I believe that is a manageable request. I need to undress then.” He warned Oswald at first, knowing humans were not always as comfortable of standing around nude as his own species was. Especially around others.

“Then by all means, there are coat hangers in the walk-in if you wish to hang anything.” Oswald offered his hangers and coat space to his guest, though Riddler denied. Much like Ed had, Riddler removed each piece of clothing, folding it carefully before setting it on the bed for safe keeping. The demon was soon down to a sleek pair of black boxer briefs when Oswald refused to look any more, glancing away for the fiend’s privacy, though Riddler had little care for not being covered. It wasn’t how his species was made. Shame of the exposed form was not anything they felt. The under coverings were quickly ditched, folded and piled with his other items, hat topping the stack he’d made.

With a quickly exhaled breath and a twist of his head, the fiend was prepped, dropping his human disguise to become his rarely seen self once again. It had been some time for him, but it felt okay to be as he was supposed to be.

Riddler’s skin was an ashen grey with a blue undertone, two large wings connected around his shoulders that extended to the floor. The wings looked like a mix of leatherish thick digits for support and a strong membrane between each, reminiscent of a bat’s wing without the fur. Long curling horns protruded from his temples at a 45 degree angle backward, one on either side of his head. The corners of his mouth looked curled into a grin, skin pushed upwards by the set of girthy fangs. A heavy tail laid on the floor, half a foot of the appendage resting on the surface below him.

Fingernails and toenails were longer than usual, brought into dull claws at the ends. His eyes looked darker, larger like they were blown out. 

None of this, however, alarmed Oswald like the appendage hanging from the front of the demon’s pelvis, making the man develop an expression of aghast horror before looking away. A fist pressed into his mouth with elbow propped on the arm on the chair. “That is absolutely horrifying.”

“I don’t look that bad.” Riddler rolled his eyes, feeling no sense of awareness or embarrassment.

The human shook his head, eyes refusing to travel close to the fiend’s direction. “No, you are acceptable. You look like a gargoyle and I very much support gothic architecture. It’s your…” His arm outstretched in Riddler’s direction, hand circling the fiend’s pelvic region in the air. “You’re rather exposed.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can cover it.”

“What are you going to use? Your hands? Yeah, good luck with that.” Oswald’s tone got snarky, the man’s eyes glancing to the ceiling to distract himself with cobwebs the cleaners had missed on their last rounds. 

“Give me your robe. Or a sheet.” He told the human, watching in amusement of how uncomfortable his exposed body made the man. 

“You…! You cannot have this robe. You’re not defiling it with your... “

“Penis?”

“Don’t say it aloud! ...If it hears me and reacts, it may attack.” 

“It’s a reproductive organ, Oz, not a predatory snake.”

Oswald scoffed with a shake of his head. “Well you could have fooled me.”

“You are ridiculous. You realize from Ed’s lack of nutrition as a child I’m actually stunted and somewhat small for my species?” Riddler questioned with a smirk, looking to get a reaction from the human now as he moved to get a used sheet from Oswald’s bed, toenails clicking on the floor and tail dragging behind him as he went. 

The club owner’s jaw hung open in some terror, his mind immediately attempting to conjure that image in his head. “Just cover it, I can’t look at you if it’s looking at me.”

Riddler chuckled, wrapping a thin sheet around his hips, knotting it at the back above his tail, wrapping it in such a way that the bulk of the sheet would drape in front of him similar to a loincloth. “Is this to your satisfaction?” He asked for approval, arms up to display what he’d done.

Oswald rapped his fingers on his chin before sparing a glance, seeing the attempt at coverage. “I’ll accept it.” He agreed, facing Riddler again to observe his natural look. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“What? No, nothing.”

“No, what was with that noise?”

“What noise?”

“You made a _hmm_ noise. What did that mean?”

Oswald got up from the chair, getting closer to the demon to observe details of his shape , walking behind him to look at the wings. “I’m simply wondering, can you fly with these?” 

The fiend flexed a wing, his trap and shoulder muscles tightening as one flying appendage stretched out as far as it was able, extending to an impressive length. “I am capable of several hours of flight at a time, I’m not as used to the travel as some others. I remain quite religiously to my human state.” 

Oswald snorted at the wing spanning the room, learning from what he could see of Riddler’s muscular structure. “Now you’re showing off.” He noticed bumps knotting out from the Incubus’ spine. He reached a hand out of curiosity to touch one of the nodules, gently letting his fingertips feather over the pulled skin. When Riddler shuddered under his touch he glanced to the demon’s back under his brow with a mischievous face blooming over curiosity. He touched the knot beneath the first, rubbing his fingers over it. He circled the bump with his palm, hearing the demon sigh contently while his wings fluttered at his sides. This was revenge for being a jerk about that… python between his hips. The movement of the wings hit a second chair near them, shoving it a foot from where it had been.

“That is… an embarrassing involuntary reaction…” He murmured, the end of his tail worming nervously on the floor. 

“Did you not know that you did that?” Oswald questioned, rubbing another circle into the second nodule, chuckling as the wings before him fluttered again in reaction.

“Traitors. All three of you are against me…” Riddler commented in reference to Oswald and his own wings. He stepped away from Oswald’s touch, turning to face the human again to gain control of the situation. “So, shall we continue to your therapy? You can resume to question me on what you like, if you are so inclined.” A nod had him plotting what to do, pointing towards the bed. “Go lay there, face the ceiling, get your leg exposed.” For Oswald’s benefit he did what he could to keep the sheet draped in front of him to cover something his species was known for. 

Riddler got his boxer briefs back, shifting himself into his human form as to actually be able to lie down. His wings and tail would get completely in the way and he had to lie on his back. The Incubus slid the underwear back on under the sheet, getting them in place so he could ditch the drapery entirely. In the time for him to cover properly Oswald had followed his instructions, waiting patiently only because he had been rather distracted watching the change to the fiend’s preferred form. 

Riddler climbed onto the bed, shifting into the thick mattress. It was nothing like the cheap bed in his apartment, this was incredibly plush and high quality. He got on the bed opposite to a traditional laying style and had to scoot himself down. Ankles propped on the headboard he patted his chest and offered a hand out to Oswald. “Give me the limb.”

Oswald thought about it for a moment, moving closer to Riddler because his leg wouldn’t reach the entirety of the distance on its own. Trusting his injured leg in the literal hands of a demon again he relaxed into the pillow behind his head, wishing to settle fully but his knack for paranoia had him questioning in the back of his head if it was all a ruse and when the fiend may decide to break his leg clean out of the joint.

Riddler repositioned the leg he was given, setting it diagonally across his torso. He adjusted himself so Oswald wouldn’t have to move as much, cradling the leg to his chest by resting his hands over the man’s knee by his ribs and the ankle laying on his collarbone. Hands massaged at the joints and along the muscles, Riddler focusing on his charm to have it flare, crackle, and pop. With the magic in play, his body quickly heated under Oswald’s leg, toasting it delightfully that made the human release the long breath his fretful mind had forced him to develop. 

“Why were you not already doing this? It seems like a simple enough task to fulfill with a heat source and assistance.” Riddler made a comment to cut the silence, hands massaging the limb. 

Oswald had a very direct answer to that. “I don’t trust anyone with it. Even now, or with Ed for that matter, I do not trust people around my leg. It is a weakness. It is a vulnerability that, in the wrong intended hands, could cripple me beyond where I am already. I still have the ability to move and generally walk around. The idea that decades from now as I age it will swell and become too difficult to move looms over me.” The man stared at the ceiling intently. “I have too much to do to be stopped now. My leg how it is at this moment is tolerable. I can move, and I am still intimidating. I can still demand respect and fear.” 

The admittance was very open to say the least, and it answered him completely. “Even now, you say?”

“Even now.” Oswald repeated. “It’s in no ways meant to be insulting to you, but it is an automatic reaction. These are the possibilities my brain will give me. If I don’t consider someone would step on my knee or ankle to do me in, and they did, I would be furious at myself for expecting them to do right by me one hundred percent, that simply doesn’t happen often in Gotham.” He spoke from experience, even good relationships he’d had with business partners ended up in one betraying the other almost to a degree of competition. “Finding someone you can truly trust in this city is like finding a hair in the desert.” 

“A hare? Like a rabbit?”

“No, a hair. As in what’s on your head.” He clarified, Oswald displaying his bangs with pinched fingers. “I’m sure someone would be lucky enough to find it, come across it by accident, but the odds of it are astronomical.” The man winced when smooth circles were rubbed into his ankle, relaxing soon after once the area became accustomed to the touch. 

“I will stay loyal to you, Oswald.” Riddler promised, he didn’t need to know if Ed fully agreed, but he had the idea that Ed wasn’t about to plot a betrayal yet. “You know too much about me, I’d rather kill you than betray or maim you regardless.” He smiled with a chuckle, trying to make a joke about it. He gained nothing from betraying Oswald, nothing more than simply killing the man would get him.

Despite the topic, Oswald laughed along at the comment, folding his hands over his stomach comfortably. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” From the fiend it felt like less of a threat and more of a joke, though he honestly felt more relief at being dead than being a paraplegic. “How would you kill me? What is your grand plan upon my betrayal?” 

Riddler considered the question thoughtfully, brushing the heels of his hands down either side of Oswald’s calf. “Hmm. I think I’d shoot you, it’d feel full circle. Once in the chest, once in the head.”

Oswald nodded, somewhat surprised it wouldn’t be by his hands, but perhaps that was best. “Efficient, I can appreciate that.”

“I’d return the question, but you can’t kill us. As we’ve already seen, so that renders that question moot.”

Oswald was quiet for only a moment, coming to an easy conclusion. “I could kiss you to death. Tempt you with my soul and have that magic spell thing do its toll on you. It makes you bleed, you must bleed out at some point.” 

Being kissed to death… didn’t sound like the worst way he could go. He rather enjoyed the pain from the magic, he’d die about the best way he could. Though Oswald might either drown or get so drunk he ended up choking on the demon blood if the human went about drinking it again. What an escape that would be, how pathetic. 

Riddler let his thumbs dig soft trenches along Oswald’s leg, glancing to the human’s face at the opposite end of the bed. “Imagine that. Oswald Cobblepot, the most deadly man in Gotham. He can kill a man in any way imaginable, so deadly even a kiss could bring down a target of his.” The fiend described the imaginary headlines, feeling Oswald’s calf muscle tense under his care briefly before relaxing again. Oswald’s plan wouldn’t work without him wishing to feed, but it was an amusing scenario to consider.

“Please. You make it sound like anyone would have that option. That is one I will cross of my list if I come to it and that would be all.” Oswald drew the line, not about to become some lip locking siren of death. 

“So I am the only one? I’m honored you’d be so gracious to me.”

“Who else am I supposed to kill like that? You are the only one affected by it. Don’t be so flattered, I don’t have the patience to suffocate every man with my tongue.”

Riddler scoffed at the thought, trying to picture Oswald with a long enough tongue that he could put it in a trachea to suffocate a target. “I prefer to think of it my way, as far as I’m concerned you will only kill me like that.”

“You can think of it however you wish, but you’d be incorrect unless it’s how I said it.” Oswald pointed out, tapping behind the demon’s ear with his foot. “So get that through your stubborn head.” He enunciated the last two words with more tapping.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Oswald grinned, knowing exactly what he was doing, tapping again.

“That.”

“That what? I’m afraid you’ll need to clarify.”

A single tap drove the fiend further. “Your foot. You could stop that foot from continuing it’s movements. Or I can.”

Oswald froze somewhat, hesitating at the threatening tone that poured off the Incubus’ tongue like honey. “Y-You wouldn’t dare.” He knew he made a poor choice when he exposed the fear… he knew it… he knew it! 

“I may dare. I may dare right now, if I so please, because I’ve got you.” Riddler’s voice was low, sounding seductive in tone but his words were threatening. The natural gravel of his lowered voice was a dangerous combination. 

Panic settled in Oswald’s chest, the man’s leg tensing as he could imagine what he’s earned himself. His heart leapt in his throat when both of Riddler’s hands took his ankle, holding onto it completely and despite his futile tugs, he didn’t break free. This would be the kind of reckless behavior that lose him his ability to walk…

Oswald nearly leapt out of his skin when more skin made contact with his own, expecting a loud snap. When hands gripped his ankle further he knew it was gone and he would need to get a wheelchair. How demeaning… When nothing painful followed he felt confused, getting small contact points left behind along his ankle. What sounded like single embers from a fire snapping in rhythm came from the other end of the bed, inviting him to glance down at the Incubus decorating his lower shin, ankle, and foot in kisses. Seemingly meaningless, sweet, soft kisses… “Wh-What do you think you’re doing?” Somehow this was just as unsettling.

“I’m stopping you from continuing to bother me, and so far, it seems to be proving effective.” Riddler commented with a long grin, head turned towards Oswald’s leg still to show it affection. People often didn’t know how to react to random affection, it was a very useful tool for even minor, harmless manipulation. Like discouraging one from being a pest.

“I… Well… Naturally! What am I supposed to do about this?” He gestured to the kisses that continued against his skin, getting a lazy, single shoulder shrug back from Riddler. “You… You absolute fiend!”

“Mhmm…” The demon hummed thoughtfully, continuing the affections of his own amusement, chest crackling strongly from fondness, his temperature building. “You aren’t incorrect, I’ll give you that. I am, indeed, a fiend.”

Oswald’s lips pushed into each other to make a tight line, lost on what further steps to take. “Well you… Just you wait until…!”

“Until what, Oz?” Riddler purred, having no sense of shame in pushing his game further, thoroughly entertained by the outcome thus yet. A hand stroked carefully up Oswald’s calf to his knee before it descended back to the ankle, all the while kisses began to line themselves from above the human’s toes towards his shin.

“Un… Until… Just you wait, until I-I…” Oswald was at a loss for action. It was rare, and he hated the confusion, but what he could do… what he could do versus what he could allow to happen? He didn’t like being without options. He always had options, he needed control again… Something, anything. “Until I keep all these souls to myself and you don’t get any today.”

Sure. That was a plan. 

“Oh?” The kisses paused.

“Y-Yes. Yes! You will receive no souls from me on this day if that continues. You have your choice. Continue your childish nonsense, or have something delicious to consume. I think this would be a deal you’d be sorry to miss out on.” He pointed out, trying to appeal to the demon in some way.

Riddler couldn’t really pass on such a tempting offer, not because he cared that much about eating, but it was interesting to see how Oswald defended himself with this. This was a valid distraction in his mind and somewhere in his gut it thrilled the fiend to think about. “I think we’ll be able to come to a consensus.” He let his hands slip from Oswald’s leg, allowing the human to move it off of him to place on the bed. 

“Good. Then you have earned this deal. Come here.” The man invited the Incubus towards 

Again, treating him with these interactions. It had less overall effect when he was aware of what was going on with the bribery, but he would choose to follow along with it. Oswald was the brilliant deal maker, after all. He was just the poor sucker lured into it all. What a shame. 

Of many things Oswald expected of his days and planned for, of things he didn’t expect to happen yet made time to consider regardless. He hadn’t once thought of having a nearly naked man in his bed, kissing him, having _both_ of his legs’ muscles squeezing in delight when hands grabbed his face to pull him in for the kisses he’d promised. This was something beyond his guesswork. 

The prolonged time between the initial contact and the first inhales were becoming further apart. Their kissing interlude less of a mandatory warm up and now a welcomed greeting to the other. It was… dare one say, intimate. It wasn’t a long-distance lover being seen for the first time in weeks, but a stable couple meeting for lunch during busy schedules. It was familiar, not desperate. Comfortable, but not necessary.

Oswald could tell the demon was becoming more attentive, even while he took the souls from him, when he finally began to inhale to take them from his business partner he seemed to pay attention. Oswald’s injured leg began to shake from tensing too long, bent naturally as though he was sitting in a chair. Still, their position and the consistent muscle use tired it quickly though the man was paying little attention. It came down to the fiend taking a hand from Oswald’s face, brushing it over the pajama pants still bunched up to the club owner’s thigh. With brushing and petting it was easier to convince the limb to lay flat on the mattress and to relax, all that effort of heating and rubbing it wouldn’t be for nothing. It needed to relax and turn outwards like it wanted.

Mid-inhale the doorknob to the bedroom jiggled, the one attempting to open it now finding out it was locked. “Hey, you busy? I got a report from the guy downtown in the laundry mat who, at the moment, doesn’t know what I could do to him with a stack of quarters.” A voice called through the door. 

Oswald shot back out of the lip lock, bumping the back of his skull off the headboard. “Ow…! What have I told you about knocking?! You were going to walk right in?!” The man yelled at the door with a scowl, annoyed at the interruption.

“...” There was a momentary pause. “Yeah.”

Oswald took a long breath in, closing his eyes as he rubbed his now tender noggin. A heavy breath carried words, mumbling to himself. “Victor… I swear…” Riddler sat back while Oswald handled business, listening in on the shouting match through the barrier. “Well what did he say?!”

“Can I talk _to_ you? I’ve got a lot of extortion in my day and I don’t want to use up my voice before I get to them.”

Oswald rolled his eyes as his hands left his hair, covering his face in annoyance. “The one morning I’ve not left and this is the time I have to be bothered in my own space.” He shook his head, looking to Riddler still sat in place. His tone stayed quiet, keeping it hush as to not be heard. “Do you mind…?”

“This room is as large as my apartment, I’m sure I can find a hiding place somewhere.” The demon agreed, slipping off of the mattress to go for the walk-in closet, closing the door behind him gently. It was as their agreement was built upon, their time personally together should be kept a secret. He could live up to that.

Oswald quickly set up his bed like he’d been relaxing, sitting up and setting a couple pillows about his leg, pushing Ed’s clothing off the side of the bed and out of direct sight. “Make it quick.” He called to his most effective henchman, watching with judging eyes as the hairless man strolled into the room. “What is it? Why is he upset this time? There’s no pleasing him.” 

Victor stood himself by the end of the bed, dressed in a slimming all black ensemble, holsters hanging on his shoulders to keep guns at the ready by his sides. “He’s got some sort of attitude problem. Which is unfortunate that we’re going to have to teach him a lesson at this point.” The guy was the best at repairing bullet holes through his clothing.

“I imagine he could live with two or three less fingers.” Oswald suggested to Victor, head tilting to the side as he grinned. A boss’ job was simply never done. “Take the fingers, charge him protection and a half, and see to it that he gets a new in-house assistant manager who doesn’t take guff.” He set down the punishments, thinking that should work in well to make a point.

“I hear prosthetic appendages are very in this season.” The man could always replace the missing fingers and cope. “Alright, can do.” Victor didn’t move from his spot, standing three feet from the bed and staring at Oswald expectedly. 

“What?!” Oswald’s voice raised, not knowing what it was the mercenary expected from him. 

Victor shrugged, glancing to the floor with something of a hurt face. “I just thought maybe we were kinda friends… You not going to introduce me to him?”

Oswald scoffed, feeling a knot develop in his throat at being called out so quickly. “Wh-What? What are you talking about Victor? Him who? I am the only one here. So unless you’re seeing people who aren’t really there…”

“He left his clothes there.” Victor pointed at the sleeve he could see beyond the corner of the bed, laying out on the floor. Green was not his boss’ color. “And there’s a person-sized wrinkle on that side.” The henchman waved his hand at the mattress. Not much got beyond Victor, it was his job to notice small details and adjust accordingly for a hit. Just so happened this time was no challenge at all.

“I…” 

“ _I’m sorry, Victor, for lying to you. It was wrong and I apologize. I will fix this. You’ll get two snow cones every week from now on._ ” Victor copied Oswald’s voice to the best of his ability, but it was a poor imitation at best. “You know, Boss? Just for you and those snow cones, you have yourself a deal. You’re forgiven.” He grinned, stepping in to make his own suggestion for a compromise. If there was an opportunity to be had, he was going to take it for his advantage. 

Oswald remained quiet as he processed what Victor thought he sounded like. “Alright. You win. You get your snow cones. What a pointless… whatever, if it makes you happy, have them.” He allowed officially, not about to let Victor take the choice from him. It gave him some security in his control if he agreed as though it was his idea. 

“Soooo…?”

“So, what?”

“When do I get to meet him? He’s basically naked in here somewhere, right?” He asked, moving to shut the door to the bedroom but not leaving the chambers himself, nosing around possible escape options. Admiring just how many clothing items were in the pile on the floor. “There are no vents in here large enough for a person… There are no smudges on the window…” Victor stalked the room curiously, looking for clues on the interloper. 

Oswald let go of an irritated groan, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Just come out! He won’t stop, he’d track you anywhere, regardless. If only for his own curiosity.” Victor, like a cat, loved to stick his nose in people’s business on his spare time. Very nonchalant in a crowd, but if a second conversation ever happened he seemed to be the most knowledgeable about it.

There was a beat of silence before the closet door opened, the fiend stepping out in a robe he’d stolen from among Oswald’s many wardrobe options. What would normally hit the club owner at the ankles only managed to reach Riddler’s calves, doing what it could to cover the taller figure. “Hi.” He greeted simply, looking at Victor on the other side of the room at the window still.

“Huh.” 

Oswald’s head cocked to Victor, eyes squinting slightly. “‘ _Huh_ ’. What do you mean, huh?” 

“Nothin’… I’ll just say it, he’s not what I expected.” Victor gestured to Riddler, talking about the now robe-covered fiend as though he was an odd vehicle purchase. “I would’ve thought something else.”

“Seriously?”

Riddler’s eyes glanced between the two, not understanding the dynamic of the pair he’d yet to see interact. “I’m… right here.” 

“I’m serious. I would’ve thought, I dunno… bulkier? You’re always around chubby guys, I thought it was a whole thing, I just didn’t say anything.” Victor shrugged, ignoring the figure closing the closet door behind him, the hitman crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not going to judge, everybody’s got a thing.”

“Wh-... What are you talking about? I surround myself with larger men because they are more intimidating and have more physical power. I’m not exactly a bodybuilder, Zsasz.”

Victor nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and I thought that was a kink thing for you. I get it, I read it wrong. My bad.”

Riddler rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses, unable to believe he was stuck in this back and forth without being involved. “Are we done yet?”

The mercenary for hire finally acknowledged the person he’d never met, taking his mind off the topic at hand. If this was his boss’ type he wasn’t incredibly far off. Tall and dark. Just went for… nerd instead of bulk. That was fine. “I have an important question for you.”

“I can answer any question.”

“Any question?”

“Yes. Question answered, was that all?” Riddler’s tone was smug as he played off the mercenary, getting a type of small revenge for being left out of the conversation.

Victor grinned, taking this challenge by the horns. “No, I now have a number of questions.”

“What is your number of questions?”

Oswald huffed, letting his head rest back against the headboard with a dramatic groan. “When will this end…?”

“I could end it for you right now.” Victor offered, grabbing a pistol from a holster and aiming it at Oswald’s head, cocked and ready to fire in a matter of moments. Even for Riddler with his increased reflexes, the human was a quick draw.

The man on the bed rolled his eyes, not taking the threat seriously. “Please. You want those snow cones too badly.” 

Victor’s eyes narrowed, making the demon lean in Oswald’s direction. If he had to interfere… The hitman raised the gun, mouth drawn inward and head bobbing in agreement. “You know, you’re right.” He holstered the .45 handgun, seeing no issue in having a little fun. “So back to my questions. I’ll ask the others later, but right now… You’re face-to-face with a person who was looking to kill you, but you have the upper hand. You stare them dead in the eyes and aim your gun to kill them first. What’re you firing?” This was a fun personality test to him, wondering what it was that the mystery guy his boss was probably banging would pick. He really doubted anyone from the legal side of life would be invited into the Cobblepot manor. Let alone his main chambers, so he had to know something of the weaponry side of things. No bad guy in Gotham was without a gun of some kind.

Riddler considered the question for a moment, but he already had an idea of his answer. “I do have a number of experiences with firearms, and I’ve found a preference for revolvers. Perhaps a .357 Model 640 Centennial, the cylinder is smooth and I find its grip quite comfortable.” Years in forensics and shooting many different varieties of firearms to test damage to compare to corpses gave him an upper hand.

Victor took in the answer with consideration, knowing the gun that was being identified. “Interesting.” His eyes went back to Oswald, stepping closer to the fiend he questioned. “I like him.”

“You hardly know him. You’re still in the middle of meeting him.” Oswald’s head stayed back, finding the ceiling to be a better companion at the moment.

“And he seems like a good guy already. You’ve got better taste than I thought.”

Oswald knew exactly what was going on here. “You’re not getting a third snow cone, Victor.”

“Damn it.”


	8. Scarred for Life

“Victor, if you wouldn’t mind not being here.” Oswald directed of his hitman. Victor had his orders, had his direction, and was free to go. That he was still around was becoming a nuisance. 

“Sure, sure. You kids have fun.” Victor allowed, holding out a hand towards the man in his boss’ robe. “Victor Zsasz, by the way.” 

“Edward Nygma.” The hand was met with his own, shaking in polite greeting.

Victor seemed to be satisfied with this, taking his leave out of the room. “Alright. I’ll have Mr. Smith dealt with by this afternoon, I’ll see who I can get to watch him on shift.” He agreed with Oswald’s punishments, leaving the room without another fuss or word. He had enough work to do that day, so he’d have to annoy his boss at another occasion. This was entirely new ammunition for his use that he didn’t see coming, whoever Ed was, was a happy surprise for his bag of tricks. “See you again sometime, Edward. Nice meeting you.”

Riddler gave a nod in return, watching as the hitman left the room, following behind him to lock the door again once he was out. “That was an unfortunate interruption.” 

“Victor has no sense of personal boundaries, he will insert himself into situations regardless of invitation or not.” Oswald let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. “He’s an absolute headache sometimes, but he’s the best at what he does.” There was no arguing with what kind of results he pulled.

“...Thank you!” A muffled call came from the other side of the door.

Oswald stared at it in some disbelief. “Victor! Leave!” Nosey little cat… 

Riddler walked back to the bed, keeping the robe on for now as it was rather plush and comfortable. The maroon covering had metallic black embroidery decorating it in a baroque pattern, catching the eye and making it that much more special. As much as he covetted his trophy from Oswald’s closet, the interruption was annoying when they were making progress together.

Oswald decided to take advantage of the silence, stepping into the conversational gap with a goal in mind. “As it is _my_ day, I feel as though I am able to ask any question I wish for an honest answer.”

This could go dangerously. “First Victor and now yourself. The day is full of unasked questions. What are yours, Oz?” He still had a right to say no if he truly didn’t wish to answer. Or he could divert the conversation. Still, he’d answer what he wished, Oswald would simply have to deal with the rest.

“Why did you choose me?”

“...What?”

“Why did you choose to have only myself get you souls? It seemed that feeding in the club had been working well for the time you and Ed stuck with it.” He didn’t understand still why there was a need for change. Even the books mentioned, no matter how wrong or right they were, that Succubi and Incubi attacked a wide range of people. Of the opposite gender, which that he knew didn’t matter to at least Ed, but feeding from many and any person seemed correct for what he knew.

Riddler paused, not sure how he wanted to answer the question, if at all. _“Alright, loverboy, you’ve been found out now.”_ Ed was less than helpful when he appeared by Riddler’s side. _“Answer him.”_

“Well… for one I can trust you.” Facts. He could stick with simple facts and that would cover everything he needed to. “I don’t need to go through the process of attempting to seduce you each time. You know why I’m looking for a target. The less trauma caused in a situation makes the next feeding easier. If Ed messes up, spooks a girl, or his charm isn’t holding on a guy, it can cause a scene. Then if they’re around again, they know I’m the one who made things odd. Even if it was him. They warn their friends, they tell who they know.” It was a simple herd mentality humans kept in order to maintain their safety. “If I only feed from one person who knows, that cuts out many possible negative outcomes.”

That was a perfectly reasonable explanation. He could add on another, he was on a roll with fact explaining. 

“A second reason, is that you have a network of both customers and employees under your control. You have a far wider spread of options than I can get to. Especially if it involves your underground dealings where the souls are more… deliciously bitter.” Riddler’s tongue swept over his bottom lip at the thought. “You have the numbers, the variety, and can hold as many souls as you wish as long as you maintain the deal made with them. What you can attain is a much more stable string of souls than we can capture by hand.” 

Very believable facts that covered why he’d ever choose things to be done in this way.

“Is that why you kiss me like you do?”

Oh dear.

_“Buuusted.”_

Ed didn’t show up, but his voice was more than apparent in Riddler’s mind. “That… that is merely-”

“Ed admitted in what he didn’t say before. When I said he stayed longer than needed, he only replied that I hadn’t stopped him. Meaning, he had a personal intention for continuing such affectionate matters.” Oswald pointed out, knowing how personalities with people’s desires worked. He managed to get close to so many people because he could manage to decipher what it was they wanted, even without directly asking. He could observe. How Ed wished to be praised, receive positive attention, that was child’s play to figure out. That one evening, being able to give him positive encouragement, allow him to have the affection he wanted as praise, it had been proof of concept that he was on the right track. 

Riddler stayed quiet, not answering the question he was given.

“I would assume Ed would want these affections because he is more emotionally drawn. He is one that likely, naturally, feels things to a fuller effect. Or at least _allows_ himself to.” Oswald pointed out, having made plenty of observations so far. “Why you do it though… I’d believe you have your own feelings, you’re not incapable of feeling. You simply lock them away. You pick thought over emotion.” How to put these things in a way that didn’t feel like he was scolding Riddler for feeling… “So, why do you kiss me like you do? What are your thought processes behind it?” Oswald got up from the bed, making his way around to stand in front of Riddler, his walk much smoother than it had been earlier that morning. He still limped, but the _therapy_ sessions really helped to soothe the aches temporarily.

Thoughts. Thoughts and facts. Points and data. He could do that. He could deliver a small presentation of why logically. He didn’t need to rely on emotion. Oswald knew who he was, that he and Ed’s reasons could be different… Still, he wished to avoid everything to do with Ed’s emotional side, not wanting to let it get the better of him, to blind him. “My thoughts behind it are that you are a reliable source of safety. You provide safety, security, and nourishment. By my species’ standard, you are a very acceptable figure with which a fiend, demon, or devil of many natures could find suitable partnership with.” He just had to keep it to fact. And these were facts. “You are cruel, you are brutal, you have little mercy when desired, you are cut throat to the point of literal execution.” 

Oswald grinned at the statements, his shoulders wiggling contently at the sweet words. “Mhmm, I like to think of myself as capable anti-hero all around.” He did good for the city still, did well for himself and those he cared about, he just happened to also kill people when he saw necessary. 

Riddler paused to think of how to phrase his next thoughts just so, not wanting to tread too far into feelings, to do what he could to avoid developing any sick reactions or to have Ed shove his way out without his say so. “You do very well at it.” He agreed with the other, knowing Oswald had a balance and that was something he could appreciate. The combination of business and pleasure. “You are… very frustratingly attractive in many ways to my kind. Normally, any one of our species has no interest in humans. We will seduce them, eat their souls, sometimes bed them for any one of many individual reasons, but there is no attachment. Humans are a boring species.”

“Why thank you for that resounding recommendation.” Oswald’s eyes rolled to the side, words dripping with sarcasm.

“It is true though. The majority of your species is quite boring. I would not want to promote the human species as a possible set of mates to other fiends and demons. ...They may find you among them and I would not enjoy that.” Fact. Fewer feelings. It was a fact, he would not like other demons piling onto Oswald either trying to get his attention or were ready to take him away without another thought.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Oswald wished to ask, doing what he could to control just how quickly he pushed with the self reflective questions, for fear Riddler may shut down again. Last time that happened there was a mess all over Ed’s apartment, and that would be convenient to avoid. He didn’t want his bedroom in quarantine for a couple days, if it could be at all helped. “Then I suppose it best that you do not spread any word that I am hidden among these… boring humans. Best to keep me as a secret for yourself and Ed alone.”

“As I intend to. As you keep who we are a secret from others as well.” It was a return of favor, nothing more. He could begrudgingly tell things to Ed, but to Oswald… that was difficult. Ed was in his head, he couldn’t avoid what the other knew when it came to how he… felt. Actions, yes, but feelings… were hard to keep from him for long. 

Oswald gave a brief nod, always willing to keep the otherworldly being a well kept secret for only himself to know about and admire. This was going in a direction he hadn’t entirely expected. Clearly there was something there, he hadn’t known it might’ve been so deep though. “You speak a lot of your species. Would these points still stand if they were only from an individual point of view? Not yours, of course, that would be silly.” The man brushed off with a wave of his hand. “If you were in the shoes of another though. Other than Ed, naturally. A regular… demon-on-the-street, would that individual think of me so highly?” He had to divide and conquer. 

Riddler swallowed thickly, following Oswald’s example. “I… would believe that the individual demon would be quite fond of you, yes.” He answered the question asked of him, doing his best to take himself out of the equation for his own comfort’s sake. 

“And would that demon say… wish to form a deal of sorts?” Oswald asked, taking a step forward as he continued to study Riddler’s face. The fiend looked like he was getting close to a point of rejection. If he didn’t strike then, he may not get another chance soon.

“Another deal?”

“No. Not another, for I have no idea who this demon is, Riddler. Obviously. This demon is merely passing by this situation with an unbiased, third-party outside view.” Oswald corrected, still putting a partition in the moment to hopefully make the situation just comfortable enough that he could get his answer.

“A deal. And what would that deal consist of?”

Oswald grinned, glad to hear that this was continuing so far. “If I also felt fondly about one particular demon I would suggest a different partnership. One of safety, security, and nourishment. I might suggest forming an intimate partnership. One with less red tape.” The man gave his opinion in the, as of yet, hypothetical situation. “It would remain in secret, but if I or said demon wished to be more possessive or wanted at any moment to seek a more affectionate situation together. Anything intimate. That it could be allowed by the other party if they agree as well.”

“It should then be known that… many demons are quite, how would a human see it, frisky creatures.” Riddler stated as a fact. Though yes, demons and fiends in general seemed to walk a line between either being a majority of sexual freedom or sexual rejection… there were some in particular that were heavily sexually based. 

“Frisky isn’t an issue.”

“Would you enjoy solving an argument’s tension with sex?”

“It would likely be less clean up than gutting someone.”

“Or dealing with an overbearingly happy moment by a rather kinky two hours?”

“Depends how my leg is feeling that day.” 

“Celebrating small moments in spontaneous and often inappropriate displays of sexual affection?” Riddler’s voice was slowly becoming laced with an annoyed tone.

“As long as it isn’t a child’s birthday party, I believe I’m fine with that.”

He just… agrees? How… Now this was a challenge. “So what do you think of a quickie in a grocery store stockroom because someone forgot the list at home and now it’s either forget many things or go back?” 

Oswald grinned, seeing where Riddler was attempting to take this. “I would trust that the demon has a large enough capacity of memory that even if I wrote the most obscure item in the bottom corner at half the font size of the rest of the list that he could still remember what it was and the rest of the list. Or would have a copy on himself regardless of the location of the original.” He first stated. “Even so, I would think it slightly unsanitary, but doable.”

“And that a disagreement for curtains to decorate the living space for you… and this demon, ends up into a rather unforgiving spanking session?”

“As long as I can lay down for it. Preferably on my good side, as one can imagine, I don’t kneel so well for very long.”

Riddler dropped his shoulders, letting out a growl of frustration. “It’s not that simple!” He stated as though there were rules to this sort of scenario. “If that demon has some possessive nature for you, if you are considered to be apart of his… his life, then there are repercussions to that partnership!” His voice stayed strong, still frustrated that Oswald found this to be so acceptable. Oswald wasn’t supposed to accept it, he should reject it! If the man rejected the possibility that meant he could keep the courting casual without feelings getting too strong. He wanted Oswald to love him, not the other way around! “They get possessive! They guard their partner, it gets in the way. If there is ever competition, there’s marking, there’s control, there’s many things you aren’t aware of!”

Oswald shrugged, taking the information casually, brushing off how _dire_ the situation was being made out. “I suppose that demon best guard me with his life then. I’m in a dangerous business. I have no suitors lined out the door and around the block, but there are more than enough people who’d enjoy to see me removed from my place.” He informed Riddler in return. “If this demon is so possessive and wishing to shower me in attention and affection, he should go ahead and do it already. I don’t have a lifetime to wait. I could very well be dead tomorrow. I could be dead tonight. They’re welcome to try and they’ll no doubt fail, as I am _incredibly_ difficult to kill, but eventually it will happen.”

The man put a finger into Riddler’s chest, between the collar of the robe, pressing his fingertip into skin that felt almost simmering to the touch. He was burning up, he was physically getting heated about something. His charm or his passion, something was driving him on. “So, Riddler, if this demon wishes to make a move and get possessive, I would allow him, if I wanted him in return. I would welcome a relationship of someone I could actually trust in such an intimate way, because everyone else wants me dead!” His voice rose back to the fiend, driving his finger still into the heated skin in front of him. “If I had any trust to that amount to actually be able to have someone in my bed, it would be welcome company! So until the day that the demon in question wishes to get beyond his own self imposed prison and stop using emotion as an excuse to hold himself back, when he’s ready to finish cowering, I would be ready to accept a rather loving life. What I live now is incredibly singular, there is no trust in Gotham! Everyone is three words or one better offer from betraying who they follow for someone else. Give anyone in this city half a reason and they’ll betray you. I would know! That’s how I got here!”

Oswald betrayed, he cheated, he stole, he double crossed, triple crossed then sold out everyone to better his own position. Every day was a day to die for him in Gotham. He just had to stay on top and he would stay alive. 

Riddler stared at Oswald for a long moment, breathing getting heavy, hand swatting away the finger at his chest. “Hit me.” 

“Whaaaat? Are you insane?!” Oswald shouted, his entire body shaking in a motion as though he stomped his foot but refrained from doing so this time.

“Hit me!” Riddler outright demanded, his voice now to a level that he was yelling in the man’s face, teeth bared with his command.

“You do not tell me what to do!” Oswald denied, instead of hitting the fiend he attempted to push him instead but the demon was rather solid on his feet, staying completely in place. 

Riddler grabbed the wrist of the hand that attempted to shove him, throwing it to the side away from himself. **“Hit. Me.”** His request was direct as his voice sunk lower, gravel filling his words as it was no longer an option, this was going to happen.

“Fine!” Oswald caved to the one demand, swinging his fist into Riddler’s chest. Though it did little to the demon, it did feel better. As it usually did when he began to get angry to a higher degree, letting go was a great way for him to vent a violent string of pent up emotions. 

“Again!” 

A second punch hit Riddler in the sternum, doing nothing to the demon. 

“Like you actually mean it, Ozzie!” 

Oswald’s eyes flared with his temper, snarling as his stance shifted, putting most of his weight into his good side. One arm taken back for him to swing an open hand into the side of Riddler’s face, slapping him with enough force that it echoed in the room. The demon’s head followed the motion, facing where Oswald had hit him before the head slowly turned back, eyes glaring angrily at the man before him. Hands grabbed Oswald’s face to haul him in for a kiss much unlike what they’d shared to that point.

It was angry. It was teeth, it was split lips, it was forceful tongues. It was scratching nails, it was hair pulling, it was pushing one or the other where they wanted. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t caring. It wasn’t thoughtful, nor was it particularly sentimental. When a chair was knocked over, no one cared. When the night stand’s contents were shoved onto the floor, there was only a growling protest, but nothing stopped. 

Oswald recoiled slightly when he hit the bed with his back, his leg not lining up how he needed it to and getting a sharp pain into his hip. “Ahh! Stop!” The command froze Riddler just long enough to see the pain, adjusting himself to grab Oswald under the thigh, supporting the limb where it could be more comfortable. 

“Better?”

“What took you so long?”

“I thought I’d go on a short vacation, take in the sights, get a tacky tourist shirt.” The fiend informed the man under him, a smug grin on his face. The expression departed as a hand made sharp contact with his face again. 

Oswald had his turn to smirk smugly after the second slap, shrugging his shoulders at the stare he received. “Whoops, it slipped.” 

“Something is going to slip.” Riddler warned with a long smile, hand giving the thigh he held a squeeze. 

Oswald let an involuntary gasp slip. “You wouldn’t dare…” He glared, his head picking up slightly off the mattress, his natural instinct being to protect where he was vulnerable. 

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’ve said you have my loyalty, and I mean that.” Riddler meant what he said and he wasn’t about to go back on that word. He leaned back down to kiss the man again, getting his lower lip bitten by the one beneath him. It wasn’t enough to break skin, but he could feel the pressured sting of teeth gripping his lip. He chuckled at the rebellion, stroking the underside of the thigh with his hand until the teeth let go. “You are trouble.”

“You are annoying.” 

“You are infuriating.”

“You are exhausting.”

“You are captivating.” 

“Get back down here.” Riddler’s head was pulled back down by both of Oswald’s hands, bringing them within centimeters of each other. “Threaten me like that again and next time you won’t be so lucky.” He warned the fiend, crushing their lips together before Riddler could get a word in edgewise. 

Despite the point of contact, Riddler grinned against the mouth that was so determined to establish an ongoing control. “Mhmm, yes boss.” He mumbled against Oswald’s mouth, feeling the man’s shift of contentment beneath him. He would still do what he liked when he liked, but it was appealing to watch Oswald take command. He would fulfill the deals they made, that’s where his followed orders ended. The rest was up to him. 

An exploratory, human guised, hand crept to the collar of the robe, peeling it open more at the chest to expose porcelain skin more to the room. A protruding collar bone and somewhat surprisingly strong shoulders. Out of the suit he was quite different, able to be admired. What distracted Riddler’s mind, what took him away from sucking on Oswald’s lower lip, was a rough patch of skin he brushed over with his thumb near the center of the man’s chest.

The demon broke the contact, curious eyes behind glasses taking in the mark. “What is this from…?” Oswald’s mouth opened half an inch before he was cut off. “No, don’t tell me, I want to figure this out for myself.” Riddler shushed him, bending better over the man with interest.

_“Ooh, what’s this?”_ Ed too was always interested in a good puzzle, appearing around the bed, both sides of the demon’s personality paying attention to the marking rather than who it was on. Near the center of Oswald’s chest was a near-white scar pulled tightly against his skin. It was reasonably small, no larger than the tip of his pinky, with a second scar not far from it, maybe half an inch long, reflecting the same type of pulling. _“That’s a contracture, not only so but also with darkened discoloration of the healed skin within the smaller marking.”_

“But also a stab wound, interesting.” Riddler and Ed both went over the options in their heads, enjoying the new puzzle that was now Oswald’s torso. He got in close, observing the man like he was a body coming in for examination at the GCPD. “Burns present in results of likely a metal object heated and then pushed into body, reformed skin on the outside of said scarring suggests it was a slow push, not a brief stab.” The joys of Oswald being alive though, he could actually speak to the body he was studying, not just speak at. “Can you feel much of this?” He questioned, tracing a finger around the smaller, squared off scar.

Oswald’s eyes rolled in some annoyance that the fun was stopped for a _‘who-done-it?’_ investigation, but fine. “Not incredibly, no. I know that you’re doing it, but it feels numb.” 

_“Noted, Oswald has retained nerve damage from stab wound, likely from an impaling that severed nerves under the skin.”_ This was becoming a game, the two playing doctor with an amused mind.

“Best guess, correct me if I’m wrong, which I don’t believe I am… altercation with someone likely in a den or living space with a fireplace, leading to a struggled fight where someone grabbed a fire poker from near the flames and pushed it,” Riddler moved Oswald better onto the bed so he could let go of the leg he held, now able to use both his arms to reenact the scene building in his head. Both of his hands were next to his torso like he held a stick, pushing forwards towards Oswald’s chest. “Into your chest so far that the hook portion managed to reach your skin and cause a second burn. You would have been heated to a degree but only just enough to begin cauterizing, not completely as the scar tissue does not reflect the damage of a high enough temperature. Is this correct?”

Oswald stared up at Riddler with some shock in his face, nodding gently. “That is… quite accurate, actually. I may find it difficult to believe that they let you leave the police department at all.” 

“Ahh, I like this game. Do you have more?” The fiend questioned with some excitement, giving Oswald a long smile as he stood with knees against the mattress, leaning over the man expectantly. 

Oswald let go of a long sigh, hands moving to undo the tie of his robe. “Take your pick, I assure you there’s plenty to go around. Though I cannot promise they’ll all be so entertaining.” He allowed, wiggling his shoulders to get the robe off and from underneath himself. 

Riddler could feel Ed pushing against him, his stomach twisting at the giddiness of his emotional half trying to insert himself into the situation. _“I need this, give me this. This is my thing. You help in areas, but this is **my** thing.”_ Ed requested with some force, making Riddler’s face twist in discomfort. 

“I just got here…” His head lifted from looking at Oswald, staring at the wall across from them instead as he spoke to Ed who moved into his vision. 

_“And you can have another turn soon, but this is something **I** began, this is what **I** did. Please, I want this.”_ Ed played his emotional side, asking for things that he’d been interested in since he was younger. They both loved puzzles, yes, but he was the one who decided what career path to take. He knew what he wanted to do and studying bodies and figuring out the mysteries of why people were hurt and killed like they were was his passion. 

“And what…? You think I had no say on that decision? This is mine.”

Oswald was getting annoyed, hand moving up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index. “Just let him have it.”

“Oz…”

“Don’t _‘Oz’_ me, you heard me. Let him have it. You’ve had time today, he’s clearly asking for something and you’re saying no. And I’m not waiting for you to look like you’re going to vomit on me so you two can fight for the next hour over this. If either of you want to keep playing this game of _‘Who did what to Oswald Cobblepot?’_ I suggest you let Ed have his way now. I’m not going to be the catalyst of this fight.”

“I…”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Oswald held up a finger, it sliding from side to side with each ‘ah’, silencing the fiend. “I promise there’ll be more in the future. This lifestyle comes filled with treasures like these. Now, let him have his turn.” He told Riddler, moving the risen hand to cup one side of the fiend’s face, taking him closer for another kiss. 

Riddler reluctantly considered his options, returning the affection before a pout formed on his mouth when they parted from each other. “Alright. I’m only doing this though because it’s your day, and this is your request.” He allowed for the singular reason, having told him from the start that this was his day to ask for anything. Was that ever a mistake… 

It took a full minute of trying to relax, but the two personalities managed a space where they could switch. Riddler finding just the amount to let go despite not wanting to, and Ed’s pushing forward to take the lead. 

When Ed took the reigns he smiled immediately, both hands moving to chest level as his fingers played with the air in his excitement. “Thank you! Okay, back to business. Where were we?” His words were quick, like someone let the faucet run on his mouth, clearly happy about the opportunity to be hands on. “It’d make the most logical sense to do these in a sectional fashion. Do you, perchance, have a pen around?”

“I’m not letting you draw on me.” 

Ed’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Alright, I’ll skip that then.” He placed a finger in the center of Oswald’s chest, using the other against the mattress to brace himself over Oswald, taking in how he could move about this. “The fire poker and this, I’ll presume gunshot, are closest to the midline. So, instead this could be done by moving laterally. As they are more on your left side, we will start left and work out. Then midline again but to your right and move out.”

Oswald rolled his eyes, seeing where he went wrong in the situation. “I’m glad you finally figured it out.” To Riddler this would’ve been a job, to Ed it was a toy. Oh well, he made his bed, he might as well lie on it. 

Ed was pleased with himself, not noticing Oswald’s dry acceptance. “So, midline established with fire poker incident and what I can estimate to be a wound from a small caliber gun at short range.” He poked at Oswald’s stomach, two inches above his belly button. “Next, set of scarring tissue on left side.” The man, knowing which one this was also lifted his arm, exposing matching scarring underneath. “Continuation of scarification proceeds to tricep.” Studious fingers traced the many fine lines and large patches of healed, slightly paler skin. “Hypertrophic scar tissue from hip to ribs, ending at chest level. Second patch of matching scars to tricep muscle, ending before elbow.” This one was a no-brainer. “You had road rash.”

“I was pushed out of a moving vehicle when a previous boss I had wasn’t fond of me snitching to the man above him. He thought we’d go for a ride. Unfortunately, I _lost_ my jacket and vest in that car and my ride didn’t last as long as theirs had.” Between him and the pavement was a dress shirt, not exactly the most protective of gear. It had been a harsh fall and skid to a stop…

Ed went over every scar he could find on the front half of Oswald’s torso, solving most of them immediately, though there were a few that could easily be confused with vague groups of weapons when they were already healed and without open wounds to visually dissect. The man was not entirely hurt by generic weapons, which made guessing all the more fun to Ed. A letter opener on the neck, rope burns around one arm, a pen through his hand, a corkscrew into his clavicle, shotgun pellets in his side, two other bullet wounds, and a scar from a one-sided knife fight occupied the front half of Oswald’s body.

“Are there more?”

 

Oswald sighed, pushing Ed from straddling over him so he could roll over, exposing his back to the fiend, crossing his arms under his head and out turning his leg to have it better rest on the mattress. “Oh Ed, I have ones you won’t see for some time still.” He mumbled against his limb, resting his cheek into his forearm contently. 

Ed’s head tilted at the thought, eyeing the pajama pants and wondering what could be under them. Other than the expected anatomical requirements. Most of what could be seen on Oswald’s back half were continuations of the front. A majority of the road rash was there, the exit wound for one of the gunshots, the other half of the rope burns, the remaining portion of the letter opener gash, but there were four new scars to discover. 

There was another bladed scar on his lower back, though it looked more like a deep slashing than a stabbing. Easy to deduce. There was a longer, jagged scar by his right shoulder blade that was interesting to solve. Though it did take part of a story to narrow down the specific cause, a broken candlestick holder had been dragged down his back several inches. One on the back of his right arm was child’s play, the circular configuration and small, speckled scarring suggested being stabbed with a shattered bottle. And as Ed guessed held by the neck in a very traditional smash the end and stab technique.

One scar perplexed Ed, it sat above Oswald’s elbow on his right arm, it looked similar in style of the road rash, but was much smaller and a slightly different texture. “Now what are you, my little mystery?” He questioned the marking, climbing around the man laid out on the bed to get a better look at the almost oval patch of scar tissue. “Friction scar, it seems like…” He commented, eyes squinting at the marking. “Am I correct in guessing this is not from falling from that car?”

“You would be right, as you’ve been with everything else.” Oswald allowed, eyes closed at this point and merely relaxing while he could. Other than Victor’s interruption earlier, it had been a rather peaceful morning so far. One of the most quiet mornings he’d gotten in a long time. 

“You’ve seemingly had this for some time, it’s not like the others.” It was faded much more than most of the other scars. Many of them were only beginning to hit a phase of fading to white. Most of these scars were still shades of pinks, browns, reds, and purples. Meaning they’d occured between the last one to two years. This one, however was settled in a pale complexion noticeably whiter than Oswald’s already porcelain skin. Unfortunately once it hit this stage it was incredibly more difficult to determine its age. “How old is this?”

Oswald had to think on that, remembering what it was from. Though how long ago was a faded memory. It was one of the few scars he had that didn’t come from the life he was building now. “I am thirty-one now, so I would guess somewhere around twenty-one to twenty three years old?” He had received it as a child, anyway, making it easier to round a number and guess.

“Did you fall off a bike?”

“Never had one.”

“Did you fall in a playground?”

“I certainly fell, but not there.”

Ed had to think about it. What were other child activities…? “Treehouse?” Kids had treehouses, that was something a usual childhood had in theory, right?

“Close enough.” Oswald shrugged his shoulder, turning his head around to be able to watch Ed studying his arm. “I fell out of a tree while escaping a bully at school. He was very large and couldn’t climb after me, so I ran up to the tree and climbed into it. With some difficulty but I’d made it up.”

“Adrenaline is a powerful tool.”

“Agreed. He thought he’d stay under that tree all day, but the bell rang and he went back inside, yet I stayed in that tree in case he’d return to get me. I stayed for a long time, long enough for another class bell to ring later. I finally began to descend, but my foot slipped on a branch near the bottom. I fell out of the tree and dragged my arm on the trunk on the way down, the bark took a small piece from me.” He told the story, probably ruining Ed’s solving game, but he didn’t believe Ed was so far off that he’d be upset about spoiling the ending.

“You seem to have had some trouble with bullies.”

“I was small, different, alone, and poor. I was a prime target for child mockery and playground bullying.” 

Ed’s jaw adjusted as he took his upper lip into his mouth, trying to consider what would help in the instance. “I think we would’ve been good friends then.”

“Ed, you would’ve still been an adult.” Oswald reminded him, developing a grin. “My mother was a very understanding woman, but I believe she would’ve slapped you away with a purse if she saw a grown man attempting to make friends with her child.” It didn’t play out well in any scenario, really.

Brows furrowed behind glasses as this was not the situation he’d pictured. “No! No, no. I mean… if I was able to be a child when you were, we would have been friends.” He clarified, hands circling in the air as he attempted to clear what he meant.

“I probably would’ve tried to kiss you, if we were both children then.”

“...What?”

“As a child, my mother was incredibly affectionate. She would kiss my face for everything. My cheeks, my nose, my forehead, my chin. I, from around the ages of four to six, didn’t know that wasn’t something you did to others you appreciated.” Oswald shared a piece of his childhood background, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. “I thought it was just something you did. It never seemed odd until everyone else said so. If you were anything then as you are to me now, you would have been the victim of much appreciation.” 

Ed’s mouth began to pull into the center, trying to hold back the smile that was forming though was failing miserably. He looked bashful and it was a cute emotion for Ed to display. “I probably would have hid from you at times then.” He admitted, sitting himself on the mattress next to Oswald’s side. “I was shy rather easily, but I would’ve likely given you a lot of things. Meaningless little rocks and leaves in the shape of things. Flowers, shown you odd bugs.” He grinned at the thought. “Especially as children, our kind like to collect things even if they have no sentiment, and we like to share what we find. It’s a natural compulsion that begins our collecting as we reach adolescence.

“If we were together then like we were now… respectively as the ages of children, I would’ve been giving you every State-shaped rock and calm beetle I could find.” The fiend returned the sentiment, knowing how badly he could’ve gotten if he and Oswald were innocent friends of the time. Especially if Oswald was so freely sweet on him like he described he once was. 

Oswald’s eyes sunk to the bed, smiling behind his arm. “I would have kept them all. There was a window in my room that had a sill that would have been perfect for them.” He could’ve seen them every day when he woke up. 

The confirmation of display had Ed’s chest warming in his delight, sparks crackling in his chest. That Oswald would put them somewhere in the open for the world to see, where he could see them everyday… his little gifts, his imagined scenario presents… Even the thought of such attachment made his natural instincts flare in his happiness. This played into any Succubi or Incubi’s desire to share items with a loved one, to have them not only accepted but also put on display meant a lot to them sentimentally. It became apart of their loved one’s hoard, and that was so naturally appealing to them in many ways and forms. From his seated position, Ed scooted himself closer to Oswald’s shoulders, leaning his frame awkwardly around the arms still posed under the man’s head to take his face in his hands to kiss Oswald quickly. It pressed their noses together, his glasses were jammed somewhat uncomfortably into his orbital bone, but it would be tolerated for the moment. 

Somewhat twisted, the man attempted to return the kiss as best he could, though slightly shocked about the sudden need for loving attention. If that’s all it took to enthrall Ed, keeping either side of the fiend pleased should be a walk in the park. 

When the demon pulled away he smiled fondly, letting go of Oswald’s face to join his hands in front of him, elbows then set on his knees, slouching forward in his posture with his focus trained on the man. “Just felt like putting that out there.”

“And…” Oswald’s brows climbed on his forehead, chin pushed forward as he conjured the words needed to proceed. “How very well put…!” A long grin took his face, lighting up his features, complimenting the other. He rolled himself around slightly, making his way into a sitting position, one leg bent and the other sticking out in front of him by Ed’s knee. 

“Oswald…”

“Yes, Ed?”

Ed froze for a moment, mind speeding far ahead of him in options and possibilities. He seemed to stumble over a syllable to a word that didn’t exist, composing himself a moment later. “I may expose your age when measured right. I make weeks, months, and years, but never seconds or minutes. If I’m special, you’ll celebrate me. What am I?” It was quick, it was dirty, but it would do the trick. 

The fiend could feel his other half put pressure on his head, attempting to convey something without appearing at the moment. 

Oswald really didn’t entirely comprehend the use of riddles when trying to bring something up, but it was Ed and Riddler’s style, one of them with a name based on it, so playing along seemed to be the easiest thing to do. “A day?”

“More specific.”

“...A date?” Ed nodded at the question, answering with a grin, thinking things were made clear with the answer. “What about the date, Edward?”

“No, nothing about _the_ date. A date. I think... we should go out on a proper date.” His head pulsed again, but it remained ignored. That was it... Riddler was upset he stole his day. Well… Oswald said he could have a turn, so Riddler would just need to have another day.

_“No, you moron. The deal. I can win over Oswald whenever I please. You aren’t going to steal my thunder. He said to keep things private, and you’re inviting him out on a date? Are you as stupid as you look right now?”_ Riddler couldn’t not show up with this, he was being misinterpreted and that was not how things were going to happen! 

“A… secret date!” Ed added in, saving himself as Oswald’s mouth had begun to hang open, not looking positive about the answer. “We should go on a secret date. Let me organize a series of _‘audits’_ that you wish to compose yourself at each business. I will pick which ones in an order that would resemble a traditional date, you may go over them and give your opinions, suggestions, and changes. And as your new right-hand, you are showing me in a hands on way what these people have to offer in their dealings.” 

Oswald’s head angled away for a moment as he thought, fingers tapping on the heel of the same hand they were on. “...And I may veto a building if I so decide that another is better suited for this… date?” Understandably he was wary about the offer, not yet comfortable with the idea of many others knowing about his romantic-inclining entanglements. 

Victor already knew, and that was enough for the time being.

“You may strike the entire list for another, if you see fit.”

_“I cannot wait to see this go down in flames.”_

The man took his time to consider it, knowing that Ed was meticulous and could make these decisions if he put both of the minds to it that he was able. “This could really only end terribly in most cases, but… I trust that you will handle this with a soft hand. So, feel free to use my office here to make your plans.” Oswald allowed, granting permission for the time being. “If during the date at any time I believe we are becoming compromised, the bargain is off and the date is over. Every file you’ll need to peruse the options of businesses I have available are in the filing cabinets in the left corner of my office. And Ed?”

“Yes, Oswald?”

“Don’t ruin this for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the extra couple days of waiting. Had to rewrite this one several times over, couldn't decide on an ending.   
> And in the process accidentally wrote two other fics, so... expect those soon!


	9. Dewey Decimal Be Damned

With Oswald’s permission to pursue his date planning, Ed had waited until Oswald began to get hungry to begin his plotting. The human went to the on-suite bathroom, getting showered, cleaned up, styled his hair, took care of each necessity before he left to go to the dining room to see what his staff could put together for a brunch-type meal in his robe and pajamas. He’d get fully dressed later. While Oswald occupied the bathroom, Ed had taken the chance to get redressed. Although the robe Riddler stole was exceptionally comfortable, now was not the time to wander the halls in his employer’s house in his robe.

Less than subtle. 

Ed got outfitted in the nice suit, leaving the jacket open and the windsor knot of his tie slack under his collar. The vest was still buttoned over the dress shirt, making it a little more casual, carrying the bowler hat around with him rather than wearing it. Honestly, he wasn’t the biggest fan of hats, though the style of this one he’d taken a shine to. 

The fiend got himself into the office down the hall within eyeshot of Oswald’s bedroom door, stepping inside and identified the left-side filing cabinets immediately. He walked his way over, feeling a sense of panic when he pulled open the first drawer and saw the filing system in question. 

It was… How did anyone find anything? It was a mess. 

They weren’t organized by anything obvious. Not by section of city, not by business type, there wasn’t even a child-system of alphabetization… 

Ed glanced away for a moment, tucking his lips into his mouth. “It’s no wonder he needs a right-hand…” He opened a file by experimentation, glancing to the stack of papers inside. “How does he find anything…? There’s nothing useful in here.” They were just… mixed papers. They had no connection to each other. What good was information when it wasn’t sorted?

He could get this done by the later afternoon. 

...The filing cabinets on the right side could probably use the same treatment. 

Crud.

 

Oswald ate, returned to his room to get dressed, putting on a more casual suit for the day only a two piece with a complimentary vest and a large knot in his tie. His black dress boots glowing in the dim light. He went without the cane for the morning, finding himself operating well as he was. His knee was at a mild pressure that near-afternoon and it was actually quite relieving for the time being. He hobbled down the hall, going to the office as there would really only be two places Ed would occupy at the moment. 

As he entered the room, his heart almost dropped out of his chest. Folders were everywhere, most opened, some stacked, papers all over the desk. It looked like a hurricane of children rolled through with a car and threw everything all about. “What the hell is all this?” He questioned aloud to a seemingly empty room. 

There was a beat of silence before eyes peeked over the top of folders stacked on his desk, Ed’s neatly combed back hair now having several locks fallen onto his forehead. After Oswald was identified he rose the rest of the way, looking like he was carried on a lift to floor level. And the man couldn’t say in some way it wasn’t endearing, like a small animal wondering if it did wrong. “I… couldn’t help but notice that your organizational choices were… just all over the place.” His hands gestured in front of himself openly. “So I decided I would fix it.”

“To… fix it? By making this room a game of 52 pick up?” 

“If 52 pick up was played with nearly 1500 files, then yes. Temporarily, I may add! I’m working on organizing them more efficiently, I needed them spread out like this because there are papers that would make more sense in other files, or if several of these files were combined into one folder.” Ed explained, opening a folder in his hand to go through it visually. “I noticed there was a theme among the cabinets. A legal set of cabinets and a disguised illegal set of cabinets. And that is, pardon my harsh wording, but insanely irresponsible. It would disguise them much more effectively if they were all mixed with each other in a system that reflects the city. 

“Each cabinet now represents a county of Gotham City. There is Uptown, Midtown, and Downtown. As well as South Channel Island, Tricorner Island, and the Narrows. Major islands on the left, minor islands on the right.” Ed explained, using his hands actively to show each of the cabinets as he addressed them. “Next, each county is organized by their district alphabetically. It could have been more efficiently done, but I assumed at some point someone other than myself may need to go through these and then we would be rather stuck as they wouldn’t be able to understand a simple organizational matrix. Given someone like the gentleman who works the door, I imagine this should be simple enough for even him to understand.”

Oswald had probably stopped listening at around ‘insanely irresponsible’, he caught little things about counties and districts, but anything more detailed than that went in one ear and out the other, staring at Ed like he was watching a magician at a child’s birthday. His ears picked up Ed ending his speech at the moment, taking in information actively again. “How very thoughtful of you.” He answered, blinking several times over to take himself back into reality.

“I like to think so.” Ed smiled, very pleased with himself that he’d be such a helpful citizen in this crime against organization. “Once you get beyond district, then it continues through what business you’re looking for, and then finally by name of business owner.” Oswald was honestly surprised that there could be more, but of course the demon found a way. “Oh! And I had a brilliant idea!”

“What are you talking about, Edward? All of your ideas are brilliant.” Oswald’s voice sprinkled in false surprise, deciding whether or not to actually keep paying attention. 

Ed’s head tilted slightly towards his chest, developing a small smile as his happiness with the system blinded him from the truth of his business partner’s tone. “Thank you, Oswald. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

That was the nicest thing? …Maybe he should pay some attention.

“So, I know how you have employee lists in the files and folders. I was thinking it could be much faster to develop an electronic system if you wished to find information on individual people. A database, if you will.” He suggested, moving files about in his hand, walking more towards the center of the room to place two papers with another file without looking at the file name. He knew what he was doing. “If you look at your employee lists now they contain name, current address, and any important past information. Now, I believe there is a way to compile a computer database of these employees, having many more details at your disposal at any given time as well as reference in a catalog where to look in the cabinet for their place of employment.” 

Oswald was rather glad he hadn’t zoned out that time, nodding politely as he took that in. “I know nothing of your electronic filing system, but if it helps then tell me what it is you need and I will have someone get it for you.” He offered, peeking at a piled folder by his foot, knowing where he could get records for the employees in order to start Ed’s computer age tracking. He would start making calls that afternoon. 

“It’d be very useful if we could ge-”

Oswald held up a finger as he cut off Ed. “What I mean to say is, write it down and I will have someone get it for you.” There was no way he was going to remember every little part and piece of electronic work Ed was going to need. “I have a meeting shortly, do you need anything? I’ll be in the parlor, but it would be best if this meeting was not disturbed.” He laid down his restrictions, though interested in keeping Ed as resourced as needed.

“No, I’m fine. I have everything needed right here.” The demon gestured to his piles of papers and files, setting down the empty folders in hand so he could take another short stack. 

“Alright.” Oswald meant to turn away though he paused, his left hand’s fingers rubbing against each other as he thought. “Edward, come here a moment.” 

Ed paused in his sorting, paper in hand and halfway out of his current folder. He slipped it back in, setting down the pile on the desk before walking over, hands holding each other in front of himself. “Yes, Oswald?” He questioned, brows raised expectantly for some sort of news.

“You’ve made a complete mess and I expect it fixed before I return.” The man informed his newest hire with authority, hand raising to brush the loose locks back into place, working with the styling product already in the demon’s hair to have it rest properly again. “You are doing good work, though.” He stated, licking his thumb to get one stubborn piece back in line with the rest. “Thank you, Ed.” 

Ed was pleasantly taken by the treatment, it not being anything like what he would’ve gotten back at work from most of his coworkers. Jim Gordon would’ve been exhausted looking, but he’d allow it. He was the nicest person to him at the department. A few kind things went a long way. “Just doing my job, Mr. Cobblepot.” The fiend’s head nodded with his recognition, though the smile across his face suggested it wasn’t so cut and dry business for him. 

Oswald grinned, glad he had Edward pegged so quickly. “Clean your mess, Edward.” He stated simply, now content with the state of the fiend’s hair to leave the office and go for his meeting. He turned to leave, being sure not to askew any of the folders at his feet, leaving the room to let Edward have his fun with the door closing behind him.

 

Ed went through all the filing cabinets in record time, in a good mood with Oswald’s blessing of his reorganization. He had a compulsion to fix. And although it wasn’t how he would normally do it, it would work for several more people than only himself. And Oswald, once he taught him how to look through. Still, to keep it sorted for any amount of time it needed to be more friendly to other possible users. Otherwise it’d end up like it was before he got there.

The things one sacrificed.

 

Oswald waited patiently in an armchair, finding himself oddly attached to the thought of which businesses Ed might choose out of his organizing chaos for them to pursue their _‘secret date’_. Honestly, the very thought of the suggestion alone was odd to him. If anyone was interested in him it was blatantly for his power. His resources. What he commanded. They would almost crawl onto him, they often were not subtle they _‘needed’_ him. He may believe that Riddler was looking for power, but something about that side of the fiend made the power feel like a happy bonus for him. Ed really seemed to want nothing but positive attention, he didn’t care much for power, but actually seemed to prefer him with it. All the _‘Mr. Cobblepots’_ … that seemed like a want for him to maintain power, not for the fiend to take it.

They were different in a way, they fit in the category of very few people who could possibly have an honest interest in him in some way. Although the demon had the added incentive of wanting him for his connections to have souls, it didn’t seem to be the only thing on Ed’s mind recently.

Oswald pondered his options for a long moment, spacing out and staring into the floor blankly. It was only a knock on the parlor door two minutes later that took him out of his daze, his cronie for the manor’s main door sticking his head in.

“Hey, Penguin. I got Mr. Galavan here for yeh.”

Oswald quickly came to, composing himself for the reality he was in, instead of the fantasy he wondered about. “Yes, good. Send him in.” Oswald waved his hand in a circle to further grant permission. As a dapper man walked in the room, Oswald rose from his chair to greet his visitor with a handshake. “Theo Galavan, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Theo Galavan was a mogul in Gotham, on the rise from nearly nowhere and was buying businesses throughout the city, whatever he could get his hands on. He was becoming a thorn in Oswald’s side for grabbing a few properties he’d been waiting for, but Theo called looking to conduct business. So a meeting had been arranged. 

“Oswald Cobblepot, what a joy it is to meet you in person at last. I expected someone smaller, to be honest. You’re not nearly the size people rumor you to be.” He stated so casually, in such a smooth tone it might seem like a compliment to some.

Oswald couldn’t help but press on a smile and a fake chuckle, playing up the _‘joking’_. “And your hairline doesn’t look at all receded like some of your promotional ads. You should fire that publicist and photographer, they’re doing you little justice.” He was not one to let someone get the last word. If they thought they were being cute and would backhand compliment, he could easily return that.

Theo adjusted as he sat himself in a chair next to Oswald’s, both getting comfortable in the seats with slight adjustments of jackets and pants. Theo’s hand raised to his hair, brushing it back subconsciously and it made Oswald more content on his victory. He didn’t have to do anything about his size, he couldn’t. Other than buy taller boots, but that was pointless and noticeable. He was more than formidable at his stature, he killed men by the handful when the opportunity arose. Size hardly mattered. However, that receding hairline… that was unfortunate and would only get worse.

Theo took in a chestful of air, getting ready to begin sharing his ideas. “I wished to come to an agreement with you, Oswald.”

“Please, Mr. Cobblepot will do.” Oswald held up a hand, not feeling particularly fond of giving Theo this sort of informality. They’d only met, he didn’t earn the use of that. “Or Penguin, whichever you prefer.” 

Theo chuckled, nodding at the request. “Penguin, then.” He chose, leaning forward in his seat, one elbow on an arm of the chair, the other on his knee. “I am procuring many rather valuable properties in Gotham that I believe would do very well under your ownership. As well as I believe there are several properties of yours that would flourish under my management. I suggest we make a trade. Businesses of equal value traded across the table, we’ll make it easy.” He gave a charming smile, eyes fixed on Oswald.

“Or I could buy them from under you.”

“You could try, but I am in ownership of billions of dollars and world-wide connections. As far as what I’ve heard, you are a city-based power. I am well-travelled, you simply don’t have the possibility of resources to buy anything without my knowledge or allowance.” Theo explained, moving slightly forward on his chair again. “Now, I would like to make this civil. A fair deal. It would be beneficial to us both to continue a deal into the future. An ongoing partnership.” 

Oswald’s fingers interlocked with each other, hands by his chin. “If we are suggesting a lasting partnership and understanding, I would like to invite my second-in-command into our business dealings.” He told Theo, looking to make things more officially overseen. It would give Ed hands-on experience, and after just going through every file the fiend should be more than prepared to give insights on the details of whichever business was in Theo’s sight. 

Galavan nodded in agreement, sitting on the edge of the seat, eyes fixed on Oswald so heavily it began to get unnerving. “Wonderful. I’ll take along mine as well, we could all meet at my office downtown.” He suggested, ready immediately to make plans for an upcoming business venture. “I’m sure that we can come to a deal we can all agree to.”

Oswald was getting an odd feeling in his stomach. Something wasn’t right, something was off… His usual paranoia ticking, causing his eyes to leave Theo for a moment to take in the contents of the table between them. What wasn’t right? Was it a trap? Was it a set-up? His usual business partners wouldn’t know who Ed was yet, there may be rumors that he had a new partner but that was all. 

“Penguin.” Theo started again, looking to gain the other man’s attention. He wanted to maintain eye contact, smile as strong as ever. “I’d like to propose a deal to you now.” He offered, eyes squinting slightly, mouth in a crooked grin, head lilting softly to one side.

Oswald relaxed immediately at the stare, smiling back to Theo warmly. “And what deal may that be?” His heart was hammering in his chest and his panic was concealed. He knew this look. This was Riddler’s charm look. He knew how this was supposed to work and exposing he knew could lead to a threat against himself and no hex could save him from being taken down by a demon physically. Until he could speak with his own fiend… he would play this out. If Ed knew any details about Theo, that may tell him just how dangerous he could be. And give him a better idea of his next move. 

“I can feel there’s something different about you, Oswald.” Theo gestured ahead for Oswald’s hand, holding out his own as if looking for a handshake. The man followed the action, setting his hand in Theo’s. “You have an odd… power about you. Much stronger than the average person. And I would like to make you a deal for some of that power.” 

“A power, you say? Well, doesn’t that sound intriguing. What kind of deal would you make me?” Oswald knew how he was supposed to act, he knew this seduction face. He never liked playing the pet card, but sometimes it was needed. His warm smile and soft almost giggles playing up the seducing he was supposed to feel.

Theo chuckled, turning over their still joined hands to face the back of his own to the floor, thumb brushing over Oswald’s skin. “You have such an interesting reaction to this. This is rare.” He commented, setting his free hand over the back of Oswald’s. “If I were to offer you something for some of this power you have, you would accept it? For me?”

Oswald smiled, eyes wanting to move away but he knew he couldn’t. Breaking eye contact messed up the connection, he had to hold it himself. “For you? I’d do anything.” His skin crawled at the thought. Theo wasn’t using his charm like Riddler did. His fiend was much more complimentary, focused, it was all about the target. With this, it was entirely about what Galavan wanted from him. This… _power_. He assumed Theo meant souls. 

“I was hoping to hear that.” Theo gave the hand he cradelled a squeeze, continuing with his thought. “I would be ever grateful if you would make a deal with me, fifty-five percent of the power within you, I would like to trade for one of the theaters in Downtown’s entertainment district. I’ve come to understand that you’ve had your eye on it for some time. You own a number of properties there already, it would complete a fine set.”

He could do better in an actual negotiation, but he didn’t have a lot of say in the matter… “Of course! I would be a fool to say no. I couldn’t possibly reject such a deal.” He agreed quickly, his smile spread from corner to corner of his mouth. He knew now he had to gather more souls again for Ed. Just over half of what he had… That was inconvenient. 

“Wonderful. Then it’s a deal?”

“It is a deal.” 

Theo Galavan chuckled happily, keeping his eyes locked on Oswald’s strongly. “Perfect.” Oswald couldn’t take his eyes off Theo, that squint remaining in his eyes that told him that he had to hold. He couldn’t look when he felt a piercing into his hand, his body tensing naturally in reaction. “Relax, Oswald. It only takes a moment.” 

It wasn’t like when Ed or Riddler fed from him. It wasn’t slow or felt like a gradual loss. It made him feel somewhat nauseous, it felt off. The souls weren’t his by ownership, only by possession, but having them leave… he could feel them go and it left an impression. His body now needing to adjust to the sudden loss of energy and life. When the stinging pressure left his skin, it didn’t relieve quickly. It felt hot, like it was burning. 

Theo let go of Oswald’s hand, standing from his chair, but kept eye contact strong. “Please, stay there. When I leave, feel free to go about your day. I’ll contact you about the second meeting.” He told the man, walking away from Oswald to the parlor doors. “I look forward to seeing you and your assistant there.” He spoke, leaving through the barriers and seeing himself out of the manor.

When Theo Galavan was out of sight Oswald had a momentary pause of remained posture and composure before his body collapsed into the chair. “Ed.” His eyes went wide and the man hobbled his way out of the room, going too fast and feeling the hall spin under his feet. He had to stop, leaning against the wall for a moment to try and reign himself again. Noted… do not lose half a collection of souls in a few moments. He would not forget that.

When the hall decided it wished to stay in place for him long enough, Oswald began to move again, limping to his office. He threw the door open, startling the fiend inside who slammed a drawer shut too strongly in his jump, jamming the drawer inside the cabinet. It was pushed too far in, the metal on the back buckled out slightly from the drawer’s impact. 

“Oswald…!” Ed turned to see what the panic was, noting the sweat on the man’s brow. “You… look like you’re experiencing an event.” He commented, moving across the room with some urgency, offering physical support to keep Oswald upright. “You’re… you’ve lost souls, what happened?” The man’s physical presence was not as grand as when he left, the energy around him was lessened. Still more than a person should have, but the amount that was now gone… It was too noticeable. “Sit, sit.” He took Oswald over to the chair behind the desk, easing the human into it.

“Ed…” Oswald was out of breath, trying to cope as his body adjusted to its new state. “Ed… there… there was a man here… The meeting. Theo. Do you know him?”

“Theo? Theo who?”

“Galavan?”

“No… I can’t say that I’m familiar.” 

Oswald opened his jacket, shedding the layer onto the back of the chair with a heavy breath leaving him. “He was trying to charm me, I had to play along. I couldn’t expose that I knew what was happening.”

Ed paused, wincing when a painful stab got him in the center of his head. “Charm? He could charm? Like… our charm?”

“Yes! He made the face… He made that face you two do. The,” Oswald did his best to copy it, staring at Ed from his place in the chair. “Face.” He concluded, hands moving up to his eyes to rub at them. “Should I feel sick…? He took souls from me, made a deal for half of them.”

“...He made a deal for them? And losing most of one’s soul causes shifts in the target, I don’t see why this should be much different. Emotional and physical. Though I imagine your body was getting used to the amount of souls in it, losing such an amount… You’ve been carrying quite a few on you, now your body needs to reset.” He informed the man, looking around the office, but not seeing what he’d need. “Give me a minute, I’ll return. Try to relax.” 

Ed left the room, feeling the pounding in his head worsen as he walked. It felt like there was a hand in his chest. Not causing problem, just sitting inside, he didn’t like the idea of something else feeding off of Oswald. It… it didn’t sit well. It was Oswald’s choice, in no combination of the three of them were they a couple, but for something else to try and charm him… 

_“He wasn’t fed from.”_ Riddler’s voice came into his head, feeling someone follow him as he went into Oswald’s bedroom. _“Something made a deal for those souls. We only made a deal to feed from him, an Incubus or Succubus wouldn’t make a deal. They would just take the souls from him.”_ Riddler was sitting on the edge of the clawfoot tub when Ed entered the bathroom, legs crossed at the ankles with a hand on his chin as he thought.

“Not unless they were in a position like ours, but I suppose we would’ve heard something if there was another one of our kind looking to deal with Oswald… Right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” 

_“He would’ve told us.”_

Ed ran the tap with a facecloth in hand, putting it under cold water to bring back with him. “He took half of the souls Oswald had. He’s been carrying no less than… what is a reasonable estimation? We’ll presume nearly forty at any given time now. One of our kind can’t hold that many at once…” 

_“Correct.”_ Riddler agreed with his other half, following him out of the bathroom as they made the trek back to the office. _“Something made a deal for his souls. I have my suspicions but we’ve never run into one before. Check his hands when we return.”_

Ed could see Riddler almost chewing on his nails, brows furrowed in thought with a scowl on his face. “You think…”

_“I do.”_

Both went quiet as Ed got into the room, Riddler disappearing from him as the fiend made his way back to Oswald with the office door shut along the way. “How are you feeling?” He asked out of care, using the cooled, damp cloth to rest on Oswald’s forehead for the time being. Oswald’s tie was loosened and collar opened down several buttons, Ed let the man relax and breathe for a minute.

“I feel like I’m about to be sick, if I move too fast the room moves when it shouldn’t be…” The man pouted, closing his eyes and enjoying the cooling sensation of the cloth against his skin.

“Hold out your hands for me, Oz.” Oswald obeyed without opening his eyes, holding them in front of his body for Ed. The Incubus noticed it immediately, taking in the welts on Oswald’s right hand. “It was a devil.”

“Excuse me…?” Oswald opened an eye, peeking to the fiend from his angle. 

“You met a devil today, Oz. These wounds on your hand are a sign of a _‘Devil’s Deal’_ , two puncture marks made from a devil’s hand. They have two thumbs on each hand, the nails dig in, puncture the skin, and they take the souls from there.” He shared what he knew, flinching when his frontal lobe began to hurt like the rest of his head. “They are dangerous to have around… species like mine, we need souls to eat, to stay healthy and live fully. Devils use them for power and that’s it. We leave percentages of soul in order to maintain a renewable food source. They will entirely take a soul and leave communities to commit suicide, they don’t care.”

They were messy, they were sloppy, they didn’t appreciate that others needed humans as well. That humans needed some general care to keep their main use plentiful. 

“I see…” Oswald picked up the cloth from his head, using it to pat around his face and neck to spread the cool sensation. “He also said being seduced by charm was rare… what does that mean? They don’t have your charm?”

Ed shook his head. “No, devil’s have their own form of charm. My species has evolved in a way that sexual advancements are our easiest approach for food. Our charm is the same. It’s meant to seduce, relax, make those in contact open to suggestion, but our charm is meant to keep the target happy. A devil…” He sighed, reaching to take the cloth from Oswald to dab it over his skin where he was missing. “...their charm reflects who it’s used on. So if you are an angry person, it makes you furious. If you are depressed, it makes you abysmal. If you are happy, you are elated. They use that select heightened emotion to make deals. Choosing to reflect a seductive charm, he will believe you are a very deeply loving and attached human.”

“I’ve been worse things.”

“Now that he believes this is how to deal with you, he will try to charm you in the future and expect similar results. He will likely keep approaching you in this way. Devils rarely change tactics.” The fiend’s hand clenched in the cloth, feeling a sharp jab behind his eyes in his head. “Please, do not see him again without us around.”

Oswald nodded at the suggestion, raising his hand to hold Ed’s wrist still. “I requested that in the next meeting that my second-in-command be present, and though he agreed he said he would do the same.” 

Ed couldn’t help but feel complimented at the request, somewhat surprised to hear the title being used for him. “Well… devils more often than not are singular, so I imagine he will bring along a human to assist.” Oswald wouldn’t let go of his wrist, unable to continue the movements freely until released. “It is fortuitous that your hex works against many species of demons, that he couldn’t charm you.” He spoke, trying to relieve the situation. “What deal did he make for the souls?”

“He traded a theater Downtown. No doubt it is the one I had been looking to move forward on for the last two months. The last owner recently died and I’d been waiting for the widow to put it on the market, she’s too old to run it on her own anymore, has no interest in it without him.” Oswald kept the arm under his hold, eyes locked on the other end of the room, fingers adjusting around the captured limb. “He seemed to know I wanted it…”

“It is well within the territory you’re building I’m sure it was a well-educated guess that you would want it.” The fiend tried to soothe the man, but he knew it would go further than that. He wouldn’t put it beyond the devil to have researched previous offers and interests, going after Oswald because of his power. Devils adored being the most powerful, the one in the most control. Oswald was a powerhouse in Gotham, and a perfect target.

Oswald nodded softly, his grip though tightened around the demon’s wrist. “I suppose.” He didn’t seem too consoled. “Will he know what you are?”

“What? No. He won’t know specifically what I am unless I show or tell it. He’ll know that I am of fiend nature, but not that I’m an Incubus.”

“Can you charm him?”

Ed sat himself on the desk, Oswald’s grip slipping to instead trap the fiend’s hand in his own, holding on as tightly as before. “No. No fiend can charm another.” Oswald was worried, he was possibly even scared, with this sort of reaction. “So he can’t charm either of us for real, if he tries to use his charm on-” Ed’s head dipped as he groaned, feeling like he got hit in the head with a brick. 

_“I’m going with him on this meeting.”_ Riddler quickly claimed, appearing on the opposite side of the table to the pair. _“He’s going to think flirting with Oz is his main weapon, and I will get unapologetically in the way of that every step.”_ He swore, not at all liking any idea that another fiend may try to get his claws on Oswald. Even temporarily for a deal. 

Oswald’s eyes moved from the wall onto Ed, rubbing a thumb without thinking over the fiend’s knuckles. “What is he saying?” He was learning that these headaches were often signs of Riddler fighting, he wanted something, he was acting out again.

“He wants to be the one at the meeting. I’d normally not encourage that, but… if you’re working against a devil you’ll want someone who can be more aggressive.” Devils didn’t take no for an answer, they continually adjusted everything possible in order to get what they wanted. At best he could be a distraction, but Riddler would be an obstacle. His head pulsed again with pain, making him close his eyes to focus the pressure away. 

_“A devil would eat you alive. You wouldn’t last long around one. You’re a pushover, Eddie. He needs me.”_

Oswald considered it, sitting up in his chair to test the room and feeling a little more balanced than he had been before. “If you both think that is a more beneficial choice, I will take him.” He agreed, willing to use whichever one of them was the larger advantage to the situation. 

“We do.” Ed agreed, knowing Riddler was right, though the mental attack to assert himself was unnecessary. It proved a point, however. “When it happens, I don’t know if I’ll talk to you before you both go, but… be careful. Devils are nothing to be trifled with. An Incubus or Succubus has some connection with humans, we may not be the most attached, but we need you. We know we need your species to live, thrive, and continue forward. Devils will fight for the most power, then begin to make bargains between each other and other creatures to continue building force. They will happily drain your species and then move on.” Devils were a plague. Any time Ed met one of his own kind, able to ask briefly about information, any one of them would quickly share the dangerous type of fiend needed removal as soon as they appeared.

They were a pest, and having one in a hunting territory could get messy very fast.

Oswald stood at the moment, feeling less sick when he moved now that his body had time to adjust to its new capacity level. “Then we remove him. He will not threaten my city or my power. We kill him.” He shrugged, as though it was so easy. “How… does one kill a devil? Is he like you?”

Ed stared in return, going through the informational tidbits in his mind, but nothing came back. “I don’t know… If anything magic should have a similar effect.”

“Well… you two _are_ magic, aren’t you? Can you hurt him?”Oswald questioned, his mind now falling into its usual paces, finding himself catching back into his habits. “Can you… fight him to the death or something?”

Ed considered this, his head bobbing from side to side while his head split down the middle from another mental interruption. “It’s… likely possible. I do not know of any case where a devil has died to the point of non-existence, a true death, but they have been fought out of territory before.” Normally creatures of that area could band together to either fight a devil off, or to make a deal to have them leave. However, if Galavan was already gaining tread in the city… it wasn’t likely that he was going to leave so willingly. Not without a great cost.

“Can you not get more of your little books and translations?” Oswald questioned, thinking that might be the easiest.

“Over the course of months, sure.” 

Oswald frowned, not wanting it to last so long only for information. “Fine. We do this the old fashioned way. With confrontation and careful planning.” They would wrestle his grip off of the city, and kill him. Simple. Everything could be killed with the right tool. This would take some process of elimination and making an enemy, but it would pay off. “We’ll kill him. Your food source will be protected, my territory remains mine. Everyone is happy.” He grinned, standing more confidently in front of the chair. “Get rid of that cloth, I no longer need it.” Oswald waited a moment, but noticed that Ed refused to move from his spot. “Well?”

“Oz.”

“What is it, Ed?”

“...Not that I’m entirely opposed, but you still have my hand. You’re making it difficult to leave.”

The man paused, glancing down to the connection between them, his hand clasped around the outside of Ed’s fingers with his thumb perched on top of the fiend’s knuckles. Ed didn’t have a lot of say in the holding, only his thumb free to touch the base of Oswald’s wrist. “I… You could have said something sooner!” 

Ed merely smiled, getting some feeling back in his hand when Oswald released him, allowing him to leave the desk without the chains of connection. “I could have, but then you would have stopped.” He spoke as he left the room with the cloth, leaving Oswald alone as he went to deliver the helpful fabric to a hamper.

Oswald watched him go, attempting to scowl for a hard minute before giving up and letting his face relax. He couldn’t even pretend to be upset… Ed was a cute fiend. The way his happy face lit up at wanting contact and bonding. It took so little to make him pleased. Even without request, Ed had left to find something to help him cope… If this devil tried anything on Ed or Riddler, he was going to send him back to the hell he came from. Somehow. Whatever it took, he would destroy Theo Galavan if he laid a finger on either of them. He would turn him to paste and shove him in a well-seasoned, hard boiled egg. 

The worst of any of this would be if Riddler didn’t distract Theo fast enough, and he had to fake being seduced by the devil. And he wasn’t entirely sure how Riddler was going to take that. 

This would get messy.

When Ed returned Oswald asked how the organizing went, getting a reintroduction to the system and was able to watch the fiend struggle with pulling the broken drawer out of the cabinet again, claiming he could fix the now busted baring track. It could close, but it wouldn’t shut entirely, the cabinet slightly bent out of shape. Oswald merely shook his head, allowing Ed to do what he saw fit to get the cabinet in working order again. At worst, it was replaced. 

In Ed’s adventures through the cabinet he was able to view every business Oswald owned, which made it convenient to talk to the man about options for the _audits_ that they could perform. It kept their minds off the soon-to-be second meeting anyway. Gave them something to positively look forward to. Oswald rejected one of the options on a list of four, knowing how their service could be. A second option he replaced with something more suitable. The other two he left as was, pleased more with the new combination.

Ed pondered the new list, considering how things lines up then. The flow wasn’t right anymore, it was off. The fiend switched the first option with something slightly different, asking Oswald’s opinion on the matter who agreed with the change.

Conducting business just to go on a date. Planning, comparing, and preparing. Things either of them enjoyed being able to accomplish well. Oswald was interrupted once by a lackey looking to see when he wished to leave for a building takeover, the man checking his watch with a frown. It had gotten so late already, Ed distracted him for such a time it was now well into the early evening. 

“Get the car ready now, I’ll be right out.” He let the lackey know, moving around the desk as he grabbed his jacket then stared back at Ed. “Well?”

Ed was rather perplexed, his eyes locked on Oswald ten feet away, filled with curiosity. “Well what?”

“Get your hat. You’re on the clock, Nygma. You are my right-hand, are you not?” Oswald questioned with some impatience, pulling on his jacket. He fixed his collar and tie that had been more relaxed the last few hours, buttoning his jacket over everything once he was in presentable order again. 

Ed nodded, glancing around quickly to grab the bowler off the desk, the accessory having been waiting to be valuable again since that morning and adjusting the rest of his suit to reflect his professionalism. “I am, yes. I am ready, Mr. Cobblepot.”

“Good, then get a move on.” Oswald was stern but soft, giving false scoldings with relaxed features. He grinned as Ed carefully placed his hat on his head, scooting around the desk to catch up with Oswald and even get ahead of him to open the door. “That’s more like it.” He left the office first, going into the hall with Ed shortly behind him. The pair going out the main door, Oswald grabbing a cane from an umbrella holder as they departed, heading out with the fiend to the awaiting vehicle. They had a long day ahead of them still, and Ed was going to be dunked into his first official day on the job.

He was already working all morning, might as well actually put him through his paces. The best way to learn was by experiencing. 

 

The takeover began as expected, it was a quiet grouped affair. A gang of men all standing on either side of an empty circle, staring at each other. Oswald made first conversational contact, using his cane as he limped ahead, delivering his offer.

“Gentlemen, I come to you today seeking the use of your warehouse. I have certain items that need storage and I’ve heard you boys are some of the best in the city at keeping secret items hidden.” Oswald began, Ed standing back with the four large mob-looking men his boss had taken with them. Maybe he could see where Zsasz got the idea for Oswald’s _’preference’_. Other than hairstyle, a majority of the four looked oddly similar. “In exchange for use and soon partnership in owning all of your warehouses, I will bring you all into my inner circle of workers. Benefits, paid holidays, requested vacation time. The little things everyday, small-time crime can’t give you. What do you say?”

Though Oswald’s smile was warm and happy appearing, the other men didn’t seem to be buying it. One glanced to another, their leader stepping forward, clearly using his five foot eleven frame to stand over Oswald, glaring down at the man with the cane. “I think you’re in the wrong neighborhood, little man. I suggest you get out of here real fucking quick before me and my boys show you what kind of shit a metal warehouse can do to what’s left of your leg.”

Oswald chuckled, covering his attitude to seem unphased while he still had five people behind him. “And I don’t think you understand, Sir, that what I’m offering is more than just simple benefits. It also comes with the promise that I don’t kill you where you stand for trying to use basic intimidation tactics on me.” He sneered, expression dropping quickly from inviting to dangerous, glaring up to the man from under his brow. “You think you’re the first person I’ve met taller than me?” He gestured to all five of the bodies standing on his side, laughing openly in the warehouse leader’s face. “I’ve cut men taller than you down to nothing.” His _‘nothing’_ emphasized with venom, bouncing ahead on his toes into the man’s face.

“Hah, a pipsqueak like you? Try me. You’re not getting my warehouses. You’ll have to waddle back to your little Igloo Bar and squawk about it to your boyfriends there.” The warehouse man snickered, thinking he was being quite clever.

Oswald’s eyes closed for a moment, cheeks sucking into his mouth before putting a long smile on his face. He turned slowly from the man he was dealing with, taking the time to compose himself before speaking again to the owner of the buildings he wanted while facing Ed and his men. “I’d kindly remind you it’s called the Iceberg Lounge. I’d understand a classless neanderthal like yourself would never be able to get in to experience its majesty, but you can trust it’s worth knowing the name of.” That was his bar. That was something he took over with the sweat of his own labor. That was apart of his starting in business, the beginnings of his legacy. What he took from Fish… What he earned in his rising. His second home… Oswald’s hand twisted over his cane, hand tensing around the penguin-topped walking stick, rotating slightly.

Ed’s eyes went from Oswald to the warehouse man who took a step closer behind him. The fiend’s eyes dropped to the floor, taking two steps back and one to the left.

“Yeah? And what if I don’t give a shit about your fucking, stupid, good-for-nothing stain on the wall icecube party?” 

Oswald’s eyes rolled, clearly more than annoyed with the situation. “Then I would say that was being rude on PURPOSE!” The man’s last word emphasised in a yell as his hand rose up from the cane, the shaft of the walking stick hitting the floor as Oswald spun around quickly on his good foot, the head of his cane attached to a dagger that was normally sheathed inside the shaft of the cane. The blade hit the taller man’s throat before he could completely step back, blood spraying out to speckle Oswald’s face, the jugular he hit and the carotid he nicked increasing the amount lost and what sprayed towards Oswald’s backup.

Oswald’s breath was heavy, furious now as the warehouse owner clutched his neck, blood pouring out from under his hands as he began to panic. “H-Help… Help… please…!”

“You want help? Here’s advice, next time listen to someone smarter and more capable than yourself. Then you won’t have to be _iced_. How’s that for help? Sufficient?” Oswald asked the man who was going a lovely shade of gray quite quickly, trembling as he fell to his knees. The bleeding boss looked back to his men who stood entirely still. “No, see? They’re smart. They know when to respect someone and when to listen. These are the men I want to deal with.” He pointed to the men remaining with his bloody dagger. 

“B-B… B-...” 

Oswald was clearly still upset about the matter, pouting in the way that his lower jaw was slid forward, glaring at the man on the floor. He paused for only a moment, leaning down to speak softly into the warehouse owner’s ear. “Who’s taller now?” He hobbled beyond him, moving to address the men as their leader collapsed face first onto the floor, blood pooling slightly under him though his clothes had done a wonderful job of catching a lot of the initial spill. “So, seeing as you men just lost your jobs, who would like to hear about an exciting new business opportunity?” Oswald’s smile returned, arms raising to accentuate his offer before dropping down to his side.

The warehouse men nodded quickly, one stepping forward to better talk to Oswald. “Uh… I think I can speak for all of us when I say… Where do we start, boss?”

“Wonderful! Those are just the words I want to hear.” Oswald looked over his shoulder to Ed, gesturing him to walk forward. 

Ed stepped over the blood spray that sat where he would’ve been standing, getting to Oswald’s side quickly. “Yes, Mr. Cobblepot?” 

“See to it that these men get proper contracts made for my business to begin with them. They are apart of this organization now and we’ll see to it that they are treated fairly like the rest of the hardworking men, women, and others in my business.” Oswald gave his instructions, taking his pocket square from his suit to begin wiping blood away from around his eyes. “I want this place up and running a new set of pieces within two weeks. The parts for the equipment will be here in three days. I assume you all know how to actually work this… machinery?” He used his knife to again point to what was around them as if it was still his cane.

“Y-Yes! Yes we do. I… we need some help, extra hands, but we… we can train them, we can run it…!” The man now speaking for the remaining three offered with a nervous smile, his entire body freezing when Oswald placed a hand on his cheek.

“You will have however many extra hands you need, just say the word.” Oswald promised, letting his hand fall as he kept the pocket square in his clutches. “Now that that’s handled, I have a client to meet in the fluorescent lighting business who is tremendously haemophobic. Mr. Nygma will be in contact with you men shortly about your next instructions. Edward, I will get you the files pertaining to their order when we are finished for the night.” Oswald discussed aloud, strolling from the groups of men to get his cane staff off the floor, wiping off his knife with the pocket square before he returned it to its home, using the cane to walk himself back to the car.

Ed stood in some awe, unable to believe that this was now the life he lead.

_“I can’t tell if he killed that man just for being an unnecessarily rude host or to be covered in blood to scare the next client, likely both, but… we should’ve joined this team years ago.”_ Riddler mentioned, a smile on his face as the two saw the other four men on their side stroll out of sight behind Oswald, Ed soon jumping along. 

“I will talk to you gentlemen soon.” The fiend gave as a parting, catching up to the group before they got to the car, sliding into the back with Oswald. One man drove their car while the other three took a second vehicle that followed behind them. 

Riddler sat comfortably in the front seat, legs crossed at the knee and hands tented in front of his chest. _“I’m going to mark him.”_ He stated aloud to the car that couldn’t hear him, well, no one but Ed. _“Next time I get out, I’m marking him. Tell him or not, but we’re not meeting this… Galavan without one.”_

Ed kept his mouth shut, glancing out the window at the scenery of the city that passed them, heading for a lighting store in the Midtown area. Oswald could find out when they got there, if it was Riddler’s choice to present the option then he could see just how that went over. Now that one of the steps made sense, thanks to Oswald’s help some time ago, it could be fully completed.

_“If you’re thinking I may fail with this, you’re wrong. I have a plan for this meeting. And it’s going to prove several points I’ve made.”_

Oh… crud.


	10. And the Oscar Goes to...!

Ed saw no less than one murder, three vomiting trips, two people fainted, one broken arm, two broken fingers, and six shattered family memories on the floor that night. The two cars stopped at an Italian place in Midtown for dinner at a point, Oswald explaining to Ed how he had worked there for a short time before gaining favor with his, at-the-time, boss. It never took him long to climb an opportunity ladder. Either by his own devices or luck, he made it through. 

They worked into the early morning, arriving back at the manor by 2:41. The criminal underground was exceedingly active at night, making it the best time to deal with any illegal deals. Most legal business was conducted in the morning, making the days Oswald had long and ongoing. It all likely attributed to why his eyes often looked so deep and tired, but there was no stopping at this point. He was used to the hours and he loved his job most days.

A little enhancing eye shadow made him look more sinister anyway. It added to the overall look.

When they returned Oswald had retrieved a binder from his desk, handing it to Ed to take with him for the night. It contained the orders and slips for anything necessary to his expansions and his dealings. It would help Ed get the best idea of where things were currently moving and what to expect. 

Where Ed’s tasks ended, Oswald stayed at his desk to make a call to his club to see where the evening had gone so far. It would be closing soon for the night and he had to keep tabs on how the favorite of his properties was doing. 

The Incubus got a ride home from one of the lackeys, taking the binder with him to his apartment as the memories of that night went through his head again. The hours, the business, the balance, and the constant work… He admired Oswald for all he was putting into his empire. He didn’t seem to stop, which was more impressive for a human who required a number of basic needs through the day.

Ed could see where he’d be useful in this, as long as he was fed his souls reasonably often he didn’t feel lethargic or run down. His energy easily stayed up and he could assist frequently with long nights and late running business. Although… most times sleep was unnecessary, unless he hadn’t fed in some time, he did still enjoy having it now and then. Humans were onto something with often sleep. It was refreshing to shut down now and then, to relax and to dream.

Still, Ed studied into the even earlier hours of the morning, perusing the binder he was given, picking out the vague and odd orders as illegal business or cover items. The amount one could probably store in a large carnival clown head was likely surprising, based on the size of the item itself. He noticed the pattern of shipping docks used, which piers were preferred. All important, small tidbits he should know for any future dealings. This was apart of his job now, and it would be done correctly and to the best of his ability. 

In the back of his head thoughts of Theo still lingered. 

A devil in their city… Not for long. 

Hopefully.

 

Ed was on Oswald’s doorstep later that morning, let in by the same man as the day before, walking in with the binder in hand and a stack of papers against the front cover. He checked the office, then his watch before proceeding to the bedroom. The demon made his way to the door, knocking with no answer in return. He peeked in, noting the empty bed and the closed over bathroom door. He could hear water running for a brief few moments before it shut off, the rooms going quiet.

Ed shut the bedroom door behind him, proceeding to the bathroom to knock on the inner barrier. 

“Victor, if that’s you, I swear-!”

“It’s Edward!”

There was a beat of silence, the sound of water shifting before Oswald’s voice came again. “You came back early. What is it?”

“I noticed there’s been a frequent delay in orders made to pier 12. Now, one would normally believe that ocean currents could contribute to delayed deliveries, _buuut_ much of the same crew makes up the ship’s delivery. So there is-”

“Ed, just come in.” 

The fiend paused, not having Riddler’s sense of bravado with this sort of thing in his partners so soon. “Are… you sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine, come in.” 

Ed’s lips curled into his mouth for a moment, thinking over the situation but walked in as instructed. “You are… naked.”

Oswald’s eyes squinted at the fiend from his place in the bathroom, up to his shoulders in warm water, comfortable in his clawfoot bathtub. His head tilted with a perplexed expression. “I know suits are my signature, but I don’t bathe in them, Edward. That is ridiculous. They’re dry clean only.” He pointed out with a bit of a disgusted face, clearly not disturbed by the presence in his bathroom. “Now, go on.”

“I was… uh…” Where was he? Right. “There is a chance of someone skimming off the top of your deliveries. I see the counts are made and double checked, but often by the same three people. When person A is in lead, the shipment is generally on time and prompt, late at times with a probable half hour for adjustments and weathers. When person B or C is in lead, it’s late by two to three hours. Giving reasonable doubt that they have the delivery made to a nearby pier.”

Oswald glared, chin touching the water as he curled down in the element more. “And is this possible? Is this something they’d be able to accomplish?”

“I would not present it as such if it wasn’t.”

“And I assume you’ve researched this?”

Ed smiled, glad that it was brought up. “Yes! I have made schedules, referenced ship numbers, shipments, and stock amounts. I’m afraid I could only cross examine seven ships in the time I had last night, but I can continue if you wish.” He offered, holding up some of the papers he had on the binder.

“No, I trust your judgement with this.” Oswald commented, his eyes on the water’s surface as he decided what to do. “Find out where these are going. I wish for my punishment to reflect their intentions. The less damage it's done, the quicker it will be over for them.” He stated easily, more than willing to cut the loose ends. “You said one of them has been loyal?”

“I will need to do further background checks on their shipments, but from what the numbers are suggesting so far, they are clean.” Ed offered his insights, acting as his job was intended.

Oswald nodded, a hand somewhat rising to the surface to make small whirlpools in front of himself with two fingers. “Good. Make them head of shipping and receiving, reward their behavior if they do completely check as clean. One, if not both, of the other two will not see the end of the day. I want to see how far this goes with each of them.” It could still be worth to keep one but move him elsewhere.

“I can have the majority of reports checked and confirmed in the next… approximately four hours.” 

“See to it that you do.” Oswald relaxed in the tub a little more, allowing the whirlpools to settle until the water was nearly still once again. “Do your kind not sleep at all, Ed?” He made mild conversation, clearly having no issue in sharing the bathroom with someone. Oswald was less shy, and more untrusting. 

His mother had bathed him in his adult years more than once, he had lost sense of what privacy in a bath setting was years ago. Showers, would also be fine, though he liked to sit when possible with cleaning. Sharing the space while vulnerably nude was no problem in his mind with someone he trusted. However, incredibly few people could be trusted.

“Not when we’ve been eating well, no. A hungry Incubus or Succubus will get lethargic, tired. It is difficult to keep our energies up if we’re not feeding frequently. Well fed, we can run on the energies the soul provides, and sleep only when we wish to conserve that use.” Ed informed his boss, hands clutched at the binder rather tightly, not used to being the one with the exposed partner around.

“I see, I don’t believe you’ve fed from me in a number of days… come here, let us remedy that.” Oswald could have someone on his team that could work indefinitely. Edward had the ability to never sleep, all he had to do was feed his need for souls. This was invaluable when he had a business that never stopped. And as much as he wished it not true, he needed to pause at points in order to rest and recuperate. If even not for sleeping rest, but for his body to be able to go again. “Bring a long towel, I still don’t trust those hands.” He commented, sitting up more in the water, exposing his collarbone in the movement. It was such a predominant feature above his chest.

Ed hesitated not so sure about approaching the tub’s edge. _“Really? A good looking man invites you to his side, exposed as the day he was born, offering to give you souls and you’re hesitating?”_ Riddler questioned with a shake of his head. _“Demons would be lining up to crawl into that tub with him.”_

“Demons, or you?” Ed bluntly asked aloud, turning his head to stare down Riddler with a grin.

Oswald could see he was going to get nowhere fast for at least a few minutes, going back to entertaining himself with the water.

Riddler glared back at his better half for a moment, it being habit after years together. _“Let me compose a list. Handsome man, naked, ready to feed you, but only with bondage.”_ The figment tapped his chin with his finger a few times as if he was in thought. _“Even **I** would consider that one.”_ How was that a deniable suggestion? That should be an automatic answer.

Ed’s brows furrowed not sure of what he should do, eyes sinking to the floor. Damn it… breakfast did sound good… “Alright. Alright, I’ll do it.” Ed agreed more to Riddler than to Oswald, putting the binder and papers down on the counter with the sink nearby. He quickly took a towel from a rack on the wall, seeing as Oswald adjusted in the tub, turning himself carefully to hold his chest against the side of the deep, clawfoot tub. His arms perched on the edge, water rolling off his forearms onto the floor. 

Oswald’s damp hands got the towel, waiting for Ed to turn around. When the man was presented hands crossed at the wrists behind a back, he used the towel to bind the hands together in reminder. “Okay, you’re ready. Come here.” Oswald directed the fiend. He looked up from his place in the water, jaw going slack and a smirk pulling at his parted lips. 

_“And you want to waste time on dating. The things you could do in this tub right now…”_

Ed rolled his eyes, turning around to see Oswald staring up at him from under his brow, fringe wet and stuck to his forehead, the smirk on him was absolutely devious. And at about hip height, it was a dangerous angle. The fiend swallowed heavily, head turning slowly to stare Riddler dead on. No. He was not his other half, he was not going to fall for basic hormonal urges early. This was going to go naturally, and if anything happened, it would happen. 

This was a Riddler level of seduction tactic. This was something where there’d be _‘too much’_ leaning in, he’d slip into the tub and chaos would break loose. He knew this trick and he wasn’t getting roped into it. 

Staring his other half in the eyes with an unimpressed face, he kneeled onto the wet floor in front of Oswald and allowed himself to relax again.

“Is he bothering you?” 

“Hardly.” 

“Then stop wasting my time, Edward.” Oswald warned, though his mouth still read as pleased, hand raised to cup the demon’s face and lead him in.

“Yes, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

Oswald chuckled, his shoulders shifting in contentment. “Do you like me being in charge, Edward?” His question met with a small nod, rewarding the answer with a kiss to the forehead. The formality of _‘Mr. Cobblepot’_ was still an interesting development to him. 

The personalities were an entertaining mix to Oswald, their preferences certainly kept him amused. Edward wanted to be subservient, but only to someone capable. He got sassy and talked back when there was need for correction, when something was wrong. He didn’t want to report to someone who wasn’t able to handle situations. He wanted someone who could recognize what a good job he was doing, someone who could see the finer details and know he was the best at what he tried to do. Ed needed an encouraging hand, and didn’t mind being handled by it.

In the same breath that Riddler wanted someone who took command, but let him lead. Someone who was independent and able to run things on their own without him. Yet, never ignored him when he was around and wanted attention. Even if he didn’t express outwardly that he wanted it, someone had to know he wanted attention. He needed a capable leader, because he would rebel and act out if they were weak or came up short. He wanted someone to overpower, but no one who would lay back and allow him everything. Riddler needed a whip, and didn’t mind getting struck by it.

Oswald continued, looking up to Ed with interest in his eyes. “And you do such good work at following orders. Even ones I haven’t given to you, you still do.” He commented, kissing Ed on either of his cheeks and seeing the pleased glow on the fiend’s face. “It seems my decision to put you in a position of power was not unwarranted.” If this was all he had to do to make Ed happy with his surroundings, he could do it all day. Words were free, simple, and came easily with someone like the demon to inspire them.

“I will do any job to the best of my ability. There’s no other option.”

Oswald smiled at the comment, his second hand joined to hold Ed’s face softly, cradling his jaw on either side. “And so far I’m impressed, I hope you continue to do so.” He stated before putting his lips to the fiend’s, enforcing the positive words with positive action. This trade of affection before they got to business… it was winning the man over. As someone missing a lot of love in his life since his mother’s passing, unable to find it anywhere he could trust it, the attention he got from Ed and Riddler was not underappreciated. He could get attention and affection from two sources and still be able to trust either of them with his life. And that… was an incredibly difficult kind of person to find. 

The exchange of kisses, fingers pressing into skin or grabbing onto binds, tilted heads, and breath mingling. All characteristics of where their opening to feeding had gotten to so far. It was a rush of the heart, it was a loss of most thought, it was soft and careful connections looking to share what they had. After a long minute Ed’s head tilted more, lips parting to signal he was ready to continue to the next step. And Oswald complied, letting the Incubus feed off of the fewer souls he now had stored on him.

Which reminded the human… he had to get more of those.

This was a way Oswald much preferred losing souls. He still felt a little dizzy, but it wasn’t in a negative way. He didn’t feel like he was about to be sick, he felt like he weighed less. If that made sense. As if he could float out of the tub at any moment. Which was impossible, but the feeling was there. The floor could be taken out from under him but it wouldn’t end with him crashing onto the ground, only harmlessly going up to the ceiling. 

That devil was a menace, and he did not look forward to having to fake any other charmed reactions to anything. Losing any amount of souls like that again wasn’t an option.

When Ed consumed several of the souls Oswald had in storage, his inhilations stopped but his affections didn’t, continuing his kisses when the man in the tub didn’t end it. It was nice to feel appreciated, treasured, and held above others. Ed could see why Riddler got such a kick out of being praised, it was simply something he didn’t get to experience very often.

It was when the bathroom door was opened without warning that both bodies in the room froze, the one in the doorway standing still for a moment before arms crossed. “Huh. Now see, bondage I could guess.”

Oswald quickly pulled back from Ed, the fiend staying in place on his knees beside the tub, now noticing how his glasses were slightly foggy from being over the warm water of the bath in the cool room, but only around the edges. It was a comforting distraction from the man in the doorway. **“VICTOR!”** Oswald yelled for the both of them, hands balling into fists, hitting the water and accidentally splashing Ed in the process. “What are you-?! Are you going to make a habit of this?!”

Victor shrugged simply, shoulders nearly up to his ears in response. “I dunno. Usually you’re out of the bath by now, you’re like… fifteen minutes over.” He replied, checking his watch for the time. “S’not my fault if you’re in here fraternizing and ruining my schedule.” He pointed out, having interrupted Oswald a number of times after his bath, though at this point normally his boss was in a robe and playing with his hair. Lucky. “Hi Ed.” Victor greeted the spectacled figure with a happy smile, hands still at his chest as he waited for Oswald’s go ahead to continue. 

Ed nodded once, eyes glancing over to Victor in some embarrassment. “Hello Victor.” His lips sucked into his mouth, as Victor already seemed to have formed an idea about them, and knew they had some connection, so there wasn’t much for him to say. “How was your business with the man at the laundromat?”

“You know, it could’ve been smoother. He had a real bad wiggle about him. I clipped not enough of one finger, too much of another. I think we made it work though.” Victor answered casually, two of his fingers tapping on his own arm as he thought. “Thank you for asking, that’s sweet.” He appreciated the catching up, grinning to Ed from his place at the door.

Oswald was losing his patience, fingers pressed into his brow. “Well?! What **is** it, Victor?” He cared little that Victor was in there with them, but he wasn’t about to start a party. 

“Oh, right. So, someone’s on the horn and wants to talk to you. Something about about meeting? Wants to do it tonight. Seems a little short notice, if you ask me, but I guess they’ve got big plans or something. Explaining something for a while, but one of the maids from the east wing winked at me and I think I have a chance, so I stopped listening.” He was entirely honest, explaining the situation to the two in the bathroom before him. 

“Meeting? What was their name, Victor? Did you manage to at least hear who it was?” Oswald questioned impatiently, head lifting from the careful prodding of his fingers as he had an idea of who Victor was referring to.

“Calahad? Something like that.” Victor commented, head pushed forward as he spoke to Oswald, focusing on the matter at hand for the time being.

“Galavan?”

“That’s it.”

There was an abrupt tearing noise that made both men stop, heads turning to the source to see Ed’s expression contorted as a pain stabbed him in the middle of his head, the knee-jerk reaction something he couldn’t stop. Even the name pissed off Riddler… which was unfortunate… The towel that had been there to remind the demon not to reach out was now hanging off one of his hands, ends torn and frayed where they’d been ripped apart. 

“Sooo…?”

Oswald took his eyes off Ed for the moment, going back to Victor with a plan. “If he’s still on the phone have him hold, I’ll be there shortly. I’ll answer it in the office.” He addressed, shifting in the water. It was still cozy, but if this was business, he should go answer the call. “Go, Victor.”

“Okay, but like… the maid…?” 

Oswald rolled his eyes, hands on the tub, ready to get out though nobody seemed to want to get a move on with their own business. “Which rooms does she clean?”

“I think it’s the library in the east wing and the second parlor or sun room, whatever that is.”

“That’s a smoking room, Victor. And is she brunette or a redhead?”

“Brunette, with the curls.”

Oswald shifted himself in the tub to grab a towel off the nearby rack, arm by Ed’s face as he got the larger covering. He opened it with a shake, holding onto one of its side lengths. With it opened he stood with no shame, moving the towel in front of himself with convenient timing to wrap around most of his body under his chest. “Her name is Yolanda. Her family owns one of the small floral shops in Downtown, she enjoys violets I believe as she keeps leaving vases of them in the east wing as decoration. Be courteous, take the Studebaker, don’t touch my Benz, go to the restaurant on 4th if she agrees, don’t make me regret this. She’s the only one who cleans the top of the window molding, don’t scare her off.” Oswald warned, pointing a finger at Zsasz who hopped in delight, ready to do his job now. 

“You got it, boss!” He answered with a smile, skipping out of the room to go see what he could make of the connection. “Thank you!” He yelled as he left through the bedroom, closing that door behind him though the bathroom one was left wide open. 

“He’s like a child, I swear…” Oswald huffed, making his way carefully out of the clawfoot tub, the towel only protecting him from so much of the cool air that survived in the room despite the warm water’s best efforts. “Keep this in your trap of a mind, Edward, if he scares off Yolanda I’m cutting off doughnut Mondays for three weeks.” 

“Doughnut Mondays?”

“It’s something for moral, just to keep the boys happy.” 

Ed nodded, standing himself up from the floor, looking at the corpse of the towel that hung from his wrist. “I’m… sorry about this. I really hadn’t meant to.” He apologized for his destruction of property, pulling the now two strips of cushioned fabric from his appendage to hold in his hand.

Oswald shook his head, getting out the usual styling and hygiene products he needed to make it through the day looking as coiffed as possible. “It seemed like you hadn’t meant it. It seemed like someone had beaten you in the head with something.”

“You could say that…” Ed threw out the halves of towel in a waste bin, straightening out his trousers that today were paired with a more casual checkered dress shirt and tie combination. Burnt orange was a color he didn’t wear often, but every now and then it felt good to change to something different. “He didn’t react well to the call…” The fiend mentioned, the heel of his hand pressing into his forehead.

“I can’t blame him.” Oswald agreed, going about his routine without missing a step. Sure, Galavan was on the phone, but he could wait. “Ed, why don’t you begin on the research of the piers? I’ll finish getting ready and be in there for the call shortly, you’ll then be in the room while I set the time with Theo.” He wanted either of them around when he dealt with Theo, just in case anything was to happen. It was a phone call, and nothing would be possible, but… Oswald found himself becoming extremely cautious mentally about the possibilities the devil had.

“I can do that.” Ed agreed, glancing to the door for a moment before returning to Oswald. His steps were careful in the bathroom, taking care not to slip in any of the left behind puddles the man had in his wake. The fiend approached Oswald from behind, hand placed against bare back with lips finding the man’s shoulder for a single, affectionate kiss. “You are most useful closed, and pointless if left open. You hold value, sentiment, or identity. In the ground, in a wall, or an entire room, your purpose is the same. Everyone gives you trust, but you cannot return it. What are you?”

Oswald’s hands dropped from his hair at the care and the attention, laying on the counter instead. A riddle… now? Really…? “I…” This was just Ed’s way of coping… Some way to try and give him security, make him feel cared for and… “A safe. I’m… I’m safe.” 

Ed’s small, approving smile made him feel a fraction better, though he couldn’t let his mind settle for a moment while Theo Galavan was in Gotham. He needed to remain on his toes. “We will make sure of it.” The fiend promised, letting his touch slip from Oswald’s skin, walking out of the room and shut the bathroom door behind himself, leaving the man be to get ready. 

 

Within the hour Ed saw Oswald enter the office, both of them mentally preparing for possibilities. Riddler’s presence made known by the pounding in Ed’s head as well as his visual body about the room. The demon listened closely to the call, physically by Oswald’s shoulder to have his ear as close to the receiver as he could without being entirely in the way. And when the call ended he was updated on any details he couldn’t hear. 

That night. 

Galavan wanted to meet that night. In one of his newly acquired offices in the Downtown area of Gotham. By the address, Oswald knew it was in one of the skyscrapers of the city with an impressive view, no doubt. It was meant to assert his power. No one got a view like that without trying to brag. It was likely meant to stroke his ego, make the man think that the devil had the best of the best. Which was ridiculous.

That building had too few exits. It was moderately impressive at best.

Ed groaned when his head pulsed in pain, Riddler’s need to gain control spreading quickly to weaken him. This what what he said he would do. Galavan wanted Oswald there, so that meant Riddler would also need to be present. So he was no longer welcome.

Ed made way for the other personality, knowing it would be better overall for Oswald to have his more cruel half there. As much as he didn’t like letting the other take over… he was best suited for this job. Regrettably. Even if they couldn’t work together well, they could at least agree that they would do what was necessary to keep Oswald safe and looked after.

And this was where Riddler’s plan began.

Ed’s concerned expression faded as a mischievous grin spread across his mouth, Riddler hitting the ground rolling. “We’re going to make Galavan believe that you are under my control. Even when I’m not around, you feel my influence.” Riddler informed Oswald, the man sitting at the desk, the demon’s eyes on the shirt he was stuck in. “Also, I need to change drastically before this happens. This shirt is horrendous.” He pointed out, it being nothing that he would normally be caught in.

“We will make time for you to change. Now, why must I be under your control?” Oswald agreed, curious to see where Riddler’s plan was going.

“It makes a statement. It’s obvious Galavan is targeting you because you are one of the largest powers in this city. I’ve witnessed the records, even with properties and people owned by the other powers that be in Gotham, you still have your hand in their honey pots.” Riddler pointed out. “There simply isn’t a way to tackle this city that won’t eventually lead to you. If he conquers you, he can more quickly expand his empire across Gotham, drain it of any soul over the next several years, then leave it as an empty husk and move on.

“We can’t have that. **I** won’t allow that.” Riddler’s hand waved dramatically in the air as he explained. “Devils may be able to have more control over magics and raw power, but there’s something we have that can easily trump his. Want to take a guess at what it is?” The fiend asked of Oswald, his smile long and his brow raised. 

Oswald shrugged, more looking to be an active listener than a guest on Riddler’s game show. “I don’t know, city support?”

“Not a chance. People are fickle. They’ll bounce to whoever they think will take care of them. Either of you could fight over them for years. No. An Incubus, and a rather strong one such as myself, has a charm that no devil can beat. Even if Theo were to charm you, be locked with you in eyesight, if I have charmed you enough previously, I could mention your name and break his connection.” Riddler bragged a little, a cocky smile on his face. “If he believes that you are entirely under my influence, if he knows what I am, he’ll know he stands no opportunity to take you. At worst he attempts to kill me, but I will kill him first. When his attention shifts from you to me, it will be much easier to attack him.

“He’ll then be focused on revenge for taking you before he did, he’ll be angry. He’ll blame me for why he can’t attain his power immediately. In his bumbling to attack me, he’ll make mistakes. When he does, I kill him.” Riddler believed his plan in its basics was foolproof. He would need to fully flush it out, but he had ideas on that already. 

“So your plan is to have him brutally attack you instead of flirting with me?”

“Yes.” 

“Riddler, that by far could be the stupidest plan-” 

Riddler held up a hand, stopping Oswald from continuing with a small frown. “It’s really quite simple, listen. I will walk you through the steps of charming, what you should feel and how I would present each stage in order to play this out. And it’s all one big trap! We are going to threaten what he can’t stand to lose… his power. We’ll ruin his confidence in this deal he wants, we’ll ruin his confidence in his ability to attain you, we’ll ruin his confidence in controlling Gotham. Then, we kill him!” 

Riddler’s distaste and extravagance in wanting to emotionally destroy Galavan in every way was obvious. He was out to crush as much as possible to prove a point. Oswald sighed heavily, eyes fixed on the floor ahead of his desk as he thought. “And how do we go about your plan?”

The demon’s face lit up at the agreement, making his way in front of the desk to be sure he was in Oswald’s line of sight, putting himself in the middle of attention. “First, I need to mark you. Every species of demon and fiend have a mark specific to them, in placement and style. With your accidental assistance I now know how to fully complete the marking.” 

“Is it going to be obvious?” The man had to ask with a sceptical glare, not thinking this to be the best plan already.

“Yes, but it is in a place that means little to you.” The fiend began to describe, rolling up a sleeve to show Oswald the inside of his wrist. “Here. I make a large marking here, a hickey in its basic described terms. This is a place you consistently have covered with dress shirts and jackets, it will not be seen unless you wish it to be.” There were two long layers there that Oswald could use for cover. “After the base blood vessels are broken sufficiently, I need to bleed and stain the marking with it. Put a stroke of it lengthways down the hickey and that makes the possession marking complete.” 

“And he’s going to understand what that means?” Oswald asked with some disbelief.

Riddler rolled his eyes at the question. “I have no doubts in my mind that Galavan is an older demon who’s been around the fiendish block several times. He will know what this means and who I am because of it. We were raised with no formal parent teachings and we still found out. Devils are born in what are called hutches, it is an equivalent of animals being born in litters. They are a very familial species. They could produce several hutches over a couple years. However, they only care for the strongest of their hutches. That’s why there aren’t more of them running around, the rest of the hutch is sacrificed to the strongest.” Devils kept their young close and well-cared for, grooming them for greatness and power. “Galavan’s parents would have taught him everything possible to be able to survive.”

Stuck up snobs and power hungry children.

Oswald glanced down to his sleeve covered arm, considering it for a long moment before he nodded. “Alright. I agree, what’s next?”

“Next we have to convince him that you are under my control, and likely have been for some time. Since you cannot be charmed, you haven’t felt its power, but with Galavan’s charms you should feel the effect instantly. That’s it, that’s the extent of his charm. You’re exposed to it and it’s doing its job.” Riddler paced in front of the desk, feeling at his best when explaining processes to those with less information. “Whereas Incubus and Succubus charms have levels.”

“Levels? Is that why you feel even hotter at certain times?” Oswald figured this was as good of a time as any to learn a little more about the demon species he was partnered with.

Riddler nodded in confirmation, glad that the man was not completely lost on details. He paid attention and that was something he valued with Oswald. “We get hotter as our charm grows more powerful, we can adjust this level and power at will. There are five levels of seduction, and we’re going to quickly need to put you to level four or five, base level of three.”

Oswald let out a heavy breath, knowing this was where he had to pay the most attention. “Base level three, maintain four to five. I can no doubt handle this, what must I do?”

Riddler’s grin became long and sly, taking steps back from the desk to begin his demonstration. “To understand level three and further you need to know how this starts, to gauge what reactions you need to give, how to describe how we met if asked. Say you are an unassuming, able to be charmed human.” He gestured to Oswald with a grin, starting a roleplay explanation.

Oswald shook his head, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile across his mouth. “Hello, I am unassuming human who has no magical attachment at all. I hope I do not get charmed by some otherworldly being.”

Riddler scoffed, willing to make more of a full theatrical release of it if it best visualized the situation for Oswald. “Level one, curiosity.” He began, walking to nearly the opposite end of the room. “An Incubus or Succubus searches a crowd visually, finding a suitable target that appeals to any of many tastes. They turn on their charm, then establish eye contact. This charm builds intrigue in the target, this would encourage you to form a way of connecting with me.” He described, staying on his side of the room.

Oswald paid close attention, recognizing this step from the first time he and Ed had met. This was the level Ed had attempted to attract him with. “With eye contact made I can see an attractive man wanting my attention. He seems interesting enough. So, I should invite him closer.” He raised a hand, sitting up more in his seat, beckoning Riddler to his side of the room with two fingers pulling towards himself. 

Riddler walked forward, stopping several feet in front of the desk. “Level two, seeking.” He leaned forward on the desk with his hands, maintaining a strong eye contact with Oswald. His charm was going, fueled by the fresh feeding, it felt natural to try and use with the man even as he only described it, but it also made a more visually aiding example. “First true contact is made, small talk to be sure the target keeps focus on me so I can keep eye contact to best establish charm. This level encourages you to get closer, it makes you feel calm and safe to approach. It begins to make you feel flirtatious, wanting to gain my attention.” Riddler reached across the desk, his long torso making him more than capable of reaching the other side comfortably. “I will start making small amounts of contact, meaningless things meant to keep your intrigue.” 

Oswald let Riddler touch his hand briefly, brush back a lock of non-existent hair, trying to figure out just what this stage called for in reaction. He smiled back, moving forward slightly in his seat. “I recognize your small talk as being quite interesting. It certainly has my attention, and you are such a captivating figure.”

“Take one step back from captivating.” 

“You are such a… You are such a unique person. I’ve never seen you here before, are you new to this place? If you wish to stick around, I could suggest a drink or two they are known for here.” Oswald replaced his statement as instructed, getting a feel for stage two. As it lead to where his base feeling had to be, he needed to know what began to drop him too low.

“Much better.” Riddler grinned, stepping back from the table to join Oswald on his side of the desk to make his advancements. “Level three, wanting.” This was an important stage to remember, this was where Oswald would have to maintain at the least if this was going to play realistically. “At this level I don’t need to hold constant eye contact, I could leave your sight,” He moved from one side of Oswald to the other, walking slowly behind the man to stay away from visual contact. “I no longer need to be the driving force of attention. At level three, you are now wanting my attention, and you will do small things to get it. What I would do in level two, is now your job in level three. Whenever I touch you, you become very happy about it. This is the payoff you want in this level, you want my approval and my touch.” He made a point to take one of Oswald’s hands in his own, using the other to brush over his jacket covered forearm. 

Oswald’s mind processed the step for a moment, having to switch his approach now. No problem, he could handle this. He could be a very convincing actor when he needed to gain attention. Easy. Begin to take the lead. Oswald gave a warm smile, his shoulders raising to accentuate his happiness. “I’m so glad that I saw you tonight, that you came over. You stand out so much from the others, I could only be so lucky as to gain your attention in return.” The man spoke, moving his chair closer to Riddler, letting his hand squeeze the one that held his. “I can only be so lucky to keep it.” Oswald mentioned, picking up the small tricks from Riddler’s level two, brushing fingertips down the Incubus’ jaw.

“You learn quickly.”

“I’ve had to fake many things in order to get what I need of a situation. I’m no amateur.” 

“You certainly are not.” Riddler agreed with the man, leaning back from Oswald slightly. “Level four, desire.” This was where he would be interested to see Oswald’s _‘acting’_ come into play. “At this point if I attempt to break contact with you entirely, you redirect me to return. This level of charm has the target longing for attention, bonding, and other meaningless emotional attachments. This is where a target begins to find footing to be more bold. It’s now your desire to have us together later, and currently you don’t wish to have us parted for more than a few seconds. When I react well, you react better.” 

Oswald’s jaw shifted with squinted eyes, having an idea of where this was needing to go. “So level four is arm candy?”

“Essentially.” 

Oswald let go of an annoyed huff. “I’m glad I can’t be charmed.” How demeaning to act as such in public, being so dependent and needing. Though, if asked, Riddler would be rather glad Oswald couldn’t either. “Alright, how to best do this…” This was a reaction somewhat beyond Oswald’s wheelhouse, but he could manage it. He moved his hands to hold Riddler’s arm, guiding the Incubus back to him. “Have many people told you how brilliant you are? I feel even if you get it all the time, it’s simply not enough to cover what you’re capable of.” He complimented, going right for something he knew Riddler treasured. “Tell me a riddle, a fact, anything.” Oswald requested with dazzled excitement, waiting on Riddler’s very word.

Riddler had to say, the acting was slightly campy, but believable when he was playing someone charmed. “I’m always one to six. I’m always fifteen to twenty. I’m always five. I’m never twenty-one, unless I’ve flown. What am I?”

Of course he had to _actually_ ask a riddle instead of saying an odd fact about… lamp posts or something no regular person would recall. “A prison sentence?” He questioned, having no idea on a numbers one. Word problems he could somewhat figure out, when there was some sort of math involved… he’d rather not. 

“No. A die. Six sides, fifteen to twenty numbers can show at one time. Five sides always show, you only get twenty-one in count when it’s in the air and you can see all six sides.”

Oswald laughed with a happy wrinkle to his eyes, shaking his head, so focused on the demon before him. “See? You’re too clever, I would have never solved that!” He claimed, one hand leaving Riddler’s arm only to toy with the collar of his dress shirt, letting his fingers barely brush the skin near it. “How am I doing so far?” The mirthful expression faded, one of a more content nature then settled on Oswald’s features.

“I’m disturbed to see you like this.” Riddler stated openly, already missing the more merciless Oswald. The bubbly, charmed one simply wasn’t his style.

“Coming from you I’ll assume that, that is a compliment.” Oswald thought about it, considering his options. “Just how skewed should my personality be? I am already tired of this persona, playing it for any length of time will be infuriating.”

“You don’t even know level five, need. Wherein the target refuses to separate from the Incubus or Succubus. You would be doing anything in your power to maintain some type of contact. At this point you would begin making rather lewd suggestions and comments, as now the charm has worked to convince yourself that being lustful, bold, and forward are the steps you wish to take. This is normally the bedding level.” Riddler went over, though the thought of Oswald playing a bubbly figure attempting to seduce him gave him a cold chill down his back that he didn’t appreciate.

Oswald let go of the fiend’s arm, hands moving up to press into his closed eyes. “I’m going to go completely insane if I have to do this like one of those bumbling, moronic, gold digging women. I would rather go to Arkham than do that.” He said finally, thinking another plan may be called for.

“Why not combine yourself with these levels? As far as I’m aware every target holds their personality to some degree. If you can apply each level to yourself, I’m sure there is a common ground we can find that isn’t so… unsettling.” 

Oswald couldn’t agree more with that, glad that he could still keep some of his dignity in this mess. “From the top then. I will get this right, Galavan won’t believe who he thinks he’s charmed. Or rather, he will entirely believe that I’m charmed by you.” He was ready to make this his own, whatever version of himself charmed that he could conjure. 

He knew the basics, now to make them his.


	11. With Feeling This Time

Oswald and Riddler stood in an elevator in a large skyscraper, heading to the floor in the building Theo Galavan retired to for business. Oswald occupied himself with his own reflection, fixing his hair just so while Riddler fussed with the man’s suit of the day. He fixed Oswald’s tie several times over, adjusted his suit jacket, picked over the angles of just how the wing tip collar of his dress shirt sat. 

With Riddler’s focus downward it made it easy for Oswald to pick a hair off the top of the fiend’s bowler hat, flicking it to the floor. The two last minute grooming each other for the meeting efficiently. Oswald waited for Riddler to finish, adjusting his right arm slightly to get a peek at the marking that hid under his sleeve and cuff. The demon’s blood stained incredibly well, even with the nearly maroon and purple marking that splotched his inner wrist. When the blood was allowed to sit, it was like having his skin dyed, it was almost concerning. 

Almost.

It was noticeable when he moved his arm out. He would make it a point to shake Galavan’s hand, and to gesture somewhat more with that hand. Anything to have the devil take notice. With practice they managed to find a version of himself that met the standards of charm given and didn’t turn him into any of the next attention-grabbing girls who were only around for a _‘good time’_. And as much as they were allowed to pursue that lifestyle if that was what they wished, he couldn’t copy it for himself. 

“Are you ready?” Riddler questioned, the elevator coming to a stop when their designated floor was reached.

“I don’t believe we have much choice in the matter, do we?” Oswald reset himself before the door opened, keeping by the fiend’s side for the time being. Level three. Level three. Close, interested, disappointed when parted. 

The door to the elevator slid open, revealing the pair of large guards in front of doors perhaps twenty feet away, the man and the demon both stepping out of the lift in near synchronization to each other. They made their way to the men, Riddler announcing their arrival before they were allowed in the room. 

The space was impressive. With minimalistic decor to keep the focus on the floor to ceiling windows displaying the Gotham skyline that almost encompassed the walls of the room, it made for a good meeting space. Oswald had to admit, it would make an impact on those who cared. Unfortunately for Galavan, he did not.

“Oswald Cobblepot, you’ve arrived.” Theo addressed with a long smile, one that made Riddler immediately wary. He only now laid eyes on the devil and he hated him already. First impression, fake. “And company.” He addressed Riddler, Theo pausing as he took in the energy radiating off of the Incubus with his growing distrust. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to meet, I’m Theo Galavan. And you are?” He held out his hand for the other to take.

The fiend accepted the hand, giving it a firm shake as he steadied most of his composure. “Edward Nygma.” 

“Well, Ed, I-”

“Ed _ward_.”

Oswald stood next to Edward, putting a hand against the Incubus’ back while his right hand put Riddler on display, palm to the ceiling, moving his sleeve slightly in the process to try his first attempt at exposing the mark. “This, Theo, is my second-in-command. My right hand. Someone I put all of my trust into, he’s the best I’ve ever had for the position.” The man praised Riddler, moving into stage three of interest and connection with the fiend. 

Riddler glanced to Oswald at the praise, his chest sparking pleasantly at the sweet attention that didn’t feel as fake as the first attempt they made with the roleplay. “So I hear that you have business for us, Galavan? Who is it that you have accompanying you tonight?” His eyes didn’t leave Oswald though, making it very obvious that he didn’t need to look at the devil when speaking to him. He’d be as rude as he pleased, the devil took _his_ souls from _his_ partner. That was a no go. 

Theo turned to address the body by a large oak desk in front of the windows, a woman stepping forward with a stone face that could cause rock to crumble in fear. “This unstoppable force is my sister, Tabitha Galavan. She will be proceeding through these meetings by my side.” 

No… No, that wasn’t right. 

As she stepped forward Riddler could sense her energy, her raw power was impressive. Perhaps more than Galavan himself… She eyed Riddler in return, the three other wordly bodies now more than aware that they were not the only ones in the city. The fiend sunk his head, whispering into Oswald’s ear. “She’s also a devil. Plan doesn’t change. This is a negative outcome.”

Oswald took in the words without his demeanor changing, holding a steady expression before chuckling. “I insist you put a hold on that behavior. You know I want to keep these meetings professional.” He scolded Riddler with a fond grin, playing it off as though the demon shared something frisky with him. “Tell me more later.” He encouraged of the other, staring at Riddler’s face to get his attention. 

The Incubus met Oswald’s gaze, establishing eye contact and the connection they’d had once more. “I’ll do more than tell you.” He returned as he smirked, taking Oswald’s marked wrist into his hand, guiding the appendage up to his mouth, palm upwards to plant a kiss against it. 

The action had Oswald pulling his hand away while he smiled, bumping his shoulder against Riddler’s arm. “You’re trouble, absolute trouble. I can’t take you anywhere.”

Theo caught the marking the second time, clearing his throat in order to get the attention of the two before him. “If you gentlemen would care to sit, there is much for us to discuss.” He directed the two, mumbling something to Tabitha on the way to his desk, the woman as stoic as ever. 

Oswald took the left and Riddler the right, the pair sat in the two plush chairs on the opposite side of the desk, getting comfortable and ready to deal with the now double devil situation. “What businesses were you looking to trade, Mr. Galavan?” Oswald questioned, his eyes taking in how Riddler crossed his legs with his ankle resting on his knee. Luckily, the gangly limbs made it easier to reach him. The man copied the movement, putting better leg over worse with calf somewhat above his knee. With the limb it was easier to keep some contact with Riddler as his state needed him to, letting the bottom of his shoe touch the demon’s. 

Riddler couldn’t help but feel some boost to his superiority when the devil’s eyes followed the contact between himself and Oswald, knowing they had his eye. They just had to continue it, increase it. Make him mad.

“Mr. Cobblepot,” Theo began, leaning ahead with elbows on his desk as he addressed his guest of honor. “I believe I’ve gained several new properties within the last number of weeks that would be best under your care, in exchange I would like to see businesses or properties in return. A sign of cooperation. With the two of us in power the city would be under our complete control.” He suggested, eyes focused entirely on Oswald with a familiar expression settling on his features.

Riddler could see what he was doing, he was trying to flex his power, trying to charm Oswald to see what the limits were. What a pathetic attempt. Even if Oswald could be charmed, Galavan’s power was weak in this area, devils only needed enough to deceive, meanwhile his people made it a specialty. 

Oswald took note of the charm, staring at Galavan for a long moment until the fiend took control of the situation. “Oh Oswald.” Riddler’s voice almost sing-song as he got the man’s attention, receiving a head turn immediately. Oswald was playing his role well so far. “Having been over every property and business in your power, I would be cautious of which he’s asking for.” There were several that had more connection than it seemed on the surface. 

Oswald eyes locked with Riddler’s, thinking as he bounced his foot to brush the sole of his shoe with his partner’s. “Do you truly have anything that would interest me, Galavan? Edward here will know if they are worth the trade.” The man pointed out, leaning over in his chair to set a hand against the demon’s arm. “He’s so good with this sort of business. Nothing escapes him. Especially nothing that he wants.” He made a point of with a grin.

Riddler laughed in amusement, putting his hand over Oswald’s, seeing how his partner glanced away only momentarily before visual connection was established between them again. “I go after what I want, failure is not a possibility.” Their chemistry at the moment almost felt more domestic than charmed… time to increase. “And I have you, don’t I?” He questioned, his chest burning hotter, moving Oswald’s hand to touch above his tie.

They didn’t have the time for Oswald to memorize the temperature difference by feel of each charm level, so instead physical cues were agreed upon to state when charm was increased. Oswald’s lips parted as his jaw became more slack, seeming so wrapped up in the fiend. “Y-You do, yes!” He agreed instantly, moving his hand from Riddler’s chest to his arm again, this time holding on with a small squeeze to the demon’s bicep.

Theo’s eyes narrowed, becoming impatient with the display. “If you could release him, we could continue our business.”

Oswald shook his head, still staring at the fiend as his upper row of teeth gently pressed into his lower lip. “I can’t let him go. I need him.”

“Not you, Oswald.” Theo clarified, standing up from his seat. “You, Edward!” He pointed a finger at Riddler, wagging the digit at the fiend as he continued to speak. “You think you’re so clever…”

Riddler shook his head, eyes sparing to look in Theo’s direction. “I don’t _think_ I’m clever, Mr. Galavan. I **know** I’m clever. I am brilliant. I am a genius.” He stated with a cocky grin, settling into his chair, separating himself from Oswald, feeling the man soon take his hand to form new contact. And Oswald was playing right along, not allowing them to break hold. “If I say the word, this deal is over. It’d be in your best interest to make me happy.”

Theo glared, sitting back down in his chair, giving his sister a soft nod. Riddler watched her walk off to a side room and out of sight. “I agreed to the terms of allowing right-hands here in order to keep some balance and trust. Oswald requested it. After being so generous in our first meeting, I was looking to please him. Not you, Incubus.”

Riddler brushed a thumb along Oswald’s hand, noting how the human relaxed his shoulders at the touch. So far so good, Theo’s attention was turning to him. “And I don’t appreciate beings encroaching on my territory, Devil.” He spat in return, able to play the name game with him. “You can’t break my charm on him. This human is mine and I have no intention of allowing a devil to take him or my city food source. I will possess him at every opportunity and convince him that you’re not worth it. He has more power in this city than you can imagine, and I’m not about to let you take that from me.” Riddler scowled, getting somewhat riled up by the competition. Even if there was no threat to Oswald, the city was his next focus.

In neither case was he going to fold. 

“If this man is upsetting you, we can leave.” Oswald offered to Riddler, knowing who’s side he had to cater to in the plan. Galavan was trying to win favor with him specifically… how interesting. Playing that he was generous. What a joke. It was all apart of that charm he tried to put on him. He had no choice in the _‘generosity’_. “A host should never be so rude to his guests.” Oswald added with a scowl to Galavan, beginning to get a sinking feeling from the room.

“Agreed, Oswald.” Riddler chimed with him, still keeping the man’s hold in his own as he rose from his seat. “I’d say he has nothing to truly offer us, we’ll take what he has from under him.” 

Theo glared at the Incubus trying to take away his meal ticket to easy city domination, standing as Riddler did. “I have plenty to offer, but to him. Not to you.” The devil moved from behind his desk to stand in front of the pair he invited over, attempting to appeal to Oswald. If he couldn’t outcharm an Incubus, perhaps he could distract the human long enough that the charm would weaken and he could take over. “Oswald, you and I… We could turn this city around. We could be its new reckoning. We could turn Gotham into something amazing, you would only need to make a few, simple deals with me. For more of that energy you have, I would give you _anything_ that your heart desired.” He attempted to strike a deal, noting movement from the other side of the room.

Oswald shook his head, stepping closer to the fiend. “No. I can already make it amazing with Edward, why would I change sides? He’s already done so much, been so helpful. I hardly know you, but him… it’s like we’ve been partners as long as I can remember.” He stated, his head about to turn for Riddler when Theo caught the man’s chin in his hand.

“Just look at me, Oswald. We may not have known each other very long, but I’ve heard much about you. You are a man the people around here respect. You could get so much more teaming up with me than this no one. Edward Nygma has no name in Gotham. Oswald Cobblepot, that is known all across the city by every type of person. Theo Galavan, a name that is quickly becoming a household word within the Gotham government. If I ran for Mayor, and you upheld the city’s business… we’d be unstoppable.” He proposed, doing what he could to keep Oswald distracted. Mentally and visually.

Riddler let go of Oswald’s hand, the man almost instantly trying to get it back, his head following the Incubus’ movements. The demon stood behind him, both arms reaching from behind Oswald to hold his body back against his own. “Galavan, I don’t believe you understand the full weight of the situation. You can’t have him. In any way. This human is _mine_. I would stop any demon, fiend, or devil who believed they could take him from me. Face the facts, you’ve lost before this even started.” Riddler spoke over Oswald’s shoulder, a hand on one side of the man’s chest, the other holding his hip. “Admit you’ve been bested and leave my city, I can manipulate this any way I wish.” 

Oswald knew he was supposed to be in stage four, he should be getting all sorts of sparks from Riddler’s hold. He reacted as such in the demon’s possessive grasp, leaning back into the other’s astoundingly hot body, feeling the heat permeate through both suits and into his skin. The passion Riddler was feeling in the moment, whatever it was he was going through mentally, his body was on fire. It did feel quite relaxing though, it felt good on the muscles and body. “I love it when you hold me like this.” He spoke to the fiend, head leaning back into Riddler’s neck, eyes half lidded, a devious grin across his mouth. “Do it tighter.” He told the other, playing along to his influence.

“You remember what happened last time you asked me that?” Riddler questioned Oswald, playing into a scene that never happened.

Oswald chuckled in return, squirming in the hold to rub himself against the fiend. “I do. I could care less that he’s here.” He was possibly wandering into charm five territory, but Riddler was burning hot and he could see the fiend’s eyes from his angle, he was fine to play it up. 

“Oswald, you little minx.”

“ENOUGH!” Theo began to yell, becoming furious at the blatant disregard for his professional enough approach. He was there to make a deal and it was being taken away from him by some second-rate demon with hardly any natural magic about him. This wasn’t fair! He should have made multiple deals with Oswald at this point, he should have Gotham under his heel! “Whatever this is, I’ve had enough of your toying around, Incubus. You may be able to convince him he loves you, use him as some throw away sex toy, but that ends tonight. I **always** get what I want.”

Riddler froze when a sharp pain suddenly shot through his back, eyes staring forward while his brows knitted together. Why did it hurt so much? It… wasn’t the best pain he’d felt, but it was… it was different. 

“And _you_ will not stand in the way of that.” Theo developed a large, menacing smile.

Oswald didn’t like how quickly Riddler’s temperature died off, going from a burning heat to… a temperature he couldn’t even feel between them.

A female voice cut in, sounding rather pleased with herself. “Got anything smart to say now, lover boy?” She questioned, stepping back from the Incubus, letting the knife she impaled him with do its job. 

Riddler’s arms loosened, dropping slowly to his knees behind Oswald, reaching for a chair to keep him upright. 

_“What is going on? What did you do?”_ A more frantic voice added to the situation, Ed taking in the room from beside Riddler, the visualization crouching down beside him, clearly unaffected by what was happening. _“Oswald… Oswald, please, help! Something’s wrong.”_ He couldn’t be heard, but he could feel nothing was right, there was pain. So much pain… their body was going into shock, but his mind still active enough to process it. 

Oswald turned when he felt the arms let go of him, his _‘charmed’_ state broken very suddenly by the sight of Riddler kneeling on the floor, blackened blue seeping through the right side of his jacket. “E-Ed…? Edward…!” He took the demon’s face in his hands, seeing the pain written through his features and that wasn’t good. This one seemed to love pain to a degree, seeing him so affected couldn’t be positive. Oswald lowered himself carefully to the floor, kneeling in front of the demon and now took in the stain forming in his clothes. “No…! Nooo!” He shouldn’t be bleeding, not like this! Human blood. He should be bleeding that fake human blood! 

“Oz…” 

“E-... Riddler don’t leave me. Not now, not like this…! You… You still have a job to do!” He claimed, looking over the other for the cause of the injury. He found the blade in Riddler’s back, taking it out to note the script over the blade, the intricate design, and the older style making it an antique knife. “I only just gave you this position… It… It would look horrible for future jobs to quit so soon…!” Oswald’s eyes began to water.

Theo chuckled from his position, nodding to his sister who stepped over to Oswald. “Now, and correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Genius, but I believe you have some vital internal organs there. Things that a demon like yourself would need. Vital internal organs that wouldn’t do well with a magic blade through them.” He spoke with a content smile, happy now that this part of his obstacle was over. “Take him, we’ll wait for the charm to die off then continue.” He directed Tabitha, turning away from the scene to collect a few papers from his desk and head out of the room.

Riddler began to cough flecks of midnight blue onto the white, marble-looking floor. “Oh crud…” That wasn’t good… “O-Oz… don’t… don’t let him have... this place.” His breathing was labored, finding himself instantly hating the face Oswald had on. The pain, the sorrow… He should never look like that… He deserved better than that. 

“I won’t…! He won’t get Gotham. This is our city… This is _my_ home, this is **your** territory… He won’t take it from me.” Oswald promised, hand raised to cup Riddler’s face, feeling the demon’s hand touch his leg gingerly. He pulled himself into a hug with him, supporting the fiend despite feeling the weight of Riddler ready to fall over. One hand around the fiend, the other crushed between them. “I’m going to get them for this. ...I’m going to destroy them. You can’t die. You won’t. Don’t disappoint me, Riddler. If you die on me now, I’m going to be tremendously upset…!” He whispered harshly by Riddler’s ear, feeling a hand grip the back of his suit jacket collar.

Riddler’s labored breathing became harder to form, taking in the threatening words as a cough racked his body again to send speckles of his demon’s blood over Oswald’s shoulder. That would stain… “I won’t… You have a date with Eddie… I still need to court you… Too much to do, yet.” He admitted to his own romantic entanglements, blood bubbling up his throat and into his mouth. Although his odds weren’t looking positive. 

Oswald only pulled back when a harsh tug forced him several inches from the fiend, Tabitha on the back of his jacket and becoming impatient. “Move, human. It’s just a charm, you’ll get over it.” She promised him, tugging again and breaking their contact only to see Oswald hop forward to take the crumpling Incubus into a kiss, drinking in the licorice flavor of his almost liquor-like blood. “Eugh…! Gross, stop that!” She scolded, hauling them apart forcefully now with enough power to pull Oswald onto his backside, his bad leg buckling at the sudden movement that made the human call out in pain. 

“Be careful with the merchandise, we need him!” Theo told Tabitha from the door, watching as she dragged Oswald behind her who struggled with the sudden pain in his leg, but his eyes fixed on the fiend who fell onto his side, hat rolling off onto the floor as he clutched to his torso. He could feel his energy leaving him, the pain the knife left, what the real pain of a magical weapon could feel like.

_“Come on, we… get him.”_ Ed attempted to encourage, but it was getting more difficult for Riddler to hear him. 

“Eddie…” 

Edward began to flicker out of his vision, appearing back and forth like trying to capture the picture of a TV channel with broken antennae. He phased into his reality and out, on the verge of neither here nor there. _“Get… he’s hurt… We… Riddler… You… hear me? ...Save him. There’s more… need…”_

Ed’s words became pointless at the moment when he disappeared, Riddler’s eyes shutting and his body relaxed on the floor, Oswald’s cries being the last thing to enter his ears before doors shut and everything became absurdly quiet. 

 

Oswald cried. Even as days passed.

As much as he knew he was attached, he didn’t know how hard he’d be hit by the loss of the fiend. Oswald began to treasure what he had to hold onto, finding himself tearing up when he looked down to the stain and marking on his skin days later. It was beginning to fade though and he hated that, the once bright purples and deep reds now becoming a darker browns, yellow tinting the edges with patches of blue replacing the purple. 

Ed… Riddler… Edward Nygma as a whole. His pair of demons in one body. The one he’d enjoyed making bargains and deals with, the one he took into his organization. Hell, even Zsasz took a shine to him and Zsasz hardly genuinely liked anyone. 

Ed asked him on a date… Riddler was trying to court him… 

This was what happened in his line of work when he tried to feel anything! When he had someone to care for, they were doomed to get hurt. They were doomed to fall. Even a creature from another realm couldn’t be at his side for long before they were taken away! He got mad, first at the situation and then at himself. He was regretful. He could’ve left Ed at the GCPD, he could’ve lived his life there peacefully. He could’ve travelled more of the country, picking up another job when he didn’t age with the rest of the force. He could’ve lived the rest of his stupidly long life in peace!

Oswald yelled, struggling on the table he was bound to, shaking it around, screaming in a way that made him sound like he was trying to yell through a gargle. He lost his mother… Lost his father… Lost the closest thing he’d ever had to a lover… What more what there to lose? His head fell back on the table, eyes closing as tears slipped down his face again. He didn’t even have the chance to put that crystal penguin in his office yet… 

His head rolled to the side, noting the forgotten foods piled in a trash bin feet from his table. He refused to eat much of anything, the man having slipped into a depression since the second day. Now on day four of his kidnapping, everything felt awful. Theo kept returning to the room, attempting to charm him, convince him to join his cause. The devil attempting one deal after another. Most times Oswald refused to acknowledge him. With closed eyes and a shut mouth he knew he could avoid the charming meetings. 

Oswald slept as often as possible, his body finding it easy to slip away when he was emotionally so exhausted. Though never soundly. Between the awful surface he was forcibly strapped to and the nightmares that would randomly occupy his mind, actual sleep was difficult to attain. His sleep was likely more accurately described as naps. He never slept for what was maybe a few hours at a time. To be honest he didn’t know how long he was in the room he was in, or just when it was. The room was windowless and there were no clocks, his own watch under his sleeve and unable to be seen with how he was bound to the table.

Oswald built his resolve again over his fourth day of imprisonment, moving from his sorry state to one of anger and resentment. He needed his time to cope, to settle himself in his rage. To accept what was going on and to form a plan. This devil wanted a deal… he’d make him a deal.

On the morning of the fifth day, Theo strolled into the room, carrying a small selection of biscuits, rolls, and eggs. It seemed to be the standards for ‘human breakfast’ options.

“Oswald, you can’t last much longer as you’re going. This isn’t how a human body works.” He informed the man, standing beside the table with a sad face on. “Please, listen to me, eat. Look at me with your eyes open, Oswald, talk to me.”

Oswald let go of an impatient sigh, rolling his head over to stare Galavan hard in the eyes. “What?”

“There he is, well don’t you look awful.” Theo pointed out, setting the plate above Oswald’s shoulder on the table. “Make me a deal, Oswald. I’ll give you anything you want, in exchange you will eat today and you will become my business partner. I don’t think that’s so far out of the way to ask.” He requested, putting his hands within each other in front of himself. 

Every visit Theo tried to make a deal with him several times a day. And his time, he was willing to barter. “Get me Edward. You give me Edward Nygma, alive and well, and I will partner with you. Give me back my second-in-command as he was, and I will agree to a deal.” He made his end of the bargain, curious to see where this would lead.

“Oswald… you don’t need that Incubus. They’re no good for you. They’re parasites. They latch on and take and take. You’re better without him, better than him. The charm should have worn off by now… Days ago this should have ended.” Galavan thought aloud, observing the man from his position. “What is that pest to you that you can’t find with me?”

The man glared up at the devil, showing his defiance. “You’re nothing like him! You never will be, there’s no one like he was! I didn’t need to be charmed to like him, we did that for fun. It was for a mood, it was for our own amusement! I wasn’t an unwilling participant, we’ve made plenty of our own deals.” He still wouldn’t let it go that he couldn’t be charmed, that was his skill to use and it was not yet time. “I cared for him, and him for I. You call him a pest, he was my partner!” 

Theo’s brows raised slowly, taking in the information. “I see. That is something I would not have predicted… I believe we can make a deal.” He spoke, moving forward to begin unbuckling Oswald from his place. 

With the binds released, the man sat up with purpose, swaying in his lightheadedness. He didn’t have enough in him, watching the room spin in front of him. “Live up to my conditions set and I will be your business partner. Fail me, and you tell me every way to kill you.” He spoke clearly, blinking several times over again in attempts to get the room to sit still.

Theo’s head tilted slightly, intrigued by the offer. “You believe I can’t deliver him to you?”

“I’m quite confident you can’t. I’m sure you can’t.” He’d seen Riddler collapse, saw him lose life… as much as he wanted the demon alive, there was little confidence in him. “Do we have a deal?” He questioned, hand stuck out for the devil to take.

Galavan chucked, not seeing how he could lose. “Well won’t you be surprised, demons are incredibly difficult to kill. Even in such a vital area.” He stated as fact, shaking Oswald’s hand, the human feeling the sharp pain again in his skin. This time he could look, seeing the guise drop from Theo’s hand, an almost rusted brown skin that was rough to the touch like corroded metal showed. Two thumbs clutched around the man’s hand, nails that were sharp like claws pierced into the back of his hand.

“I’ll believe it when I see him.” Oswald shrugged, letting go of the devil’s hand when he was allowed, head cocked to the side while his hands supported him on the table to remain upright.

“Eat something, Oswald. I’ll find you your demon by tonight.”

“You’d better.”

Theo left the room, closing the door behind him and left Oswald alone as well as unbound in the room. Second mistake, Galavan. The man went to town on the food he got, hating that the bread products were warm like they’d just been pulled from the oven. This hospitality to gain his favor was disgusting, he hated it. He hated the devil and he hated what had happened. He was getting out of there, one way or another.

 

Oswald spent several hours observing the plain room, it being astoundingly empty. His best weapon from the room was the table, the trash bin, and the plates his food was delivered on. They were paper, but he could still get someone to choke on them. Trash bin was his greatest environmental tool. Fine. He could work with that. 

A lunch was delivered that he refused to touch, and later a dinner by Galavan. He was told to eat, _‘visiting’_ hours were shortly. He made short work of the pasta basic dish, feeling somewhat sick after eating so much compared to his last number of days, but he wanted it to work from. 

Galavan’s sister came into the room half an hour later, glancing in to see where the human was. “Here, take your boyfriend.”

She pushed a wide-eyed Edward into the room, the demon locking eyes with Oswald quickly. “Oz, this is where they took you… I’ve been looking for almost a week…” He walked over to Oswald quickly, taking the man into his hold, wrapping arms around his shoulders. “You look better than I thought you might with them.” His grin was long and crooked, relief written over his face.

Oswald felt his body freeze for a moment, tears coming to his eyes as he took in the hold and the fiend before him. “Y-You’re alive…! I was thinking the worst when you didn’t come sooner!” He pushed his forehead into Ed’s chest, fingers gripping the fabric of the open green jacket. 

“It took longer than predicted to heal… Galavan got me in a rather tender spot.” Edward admitted, stroking his hand along Oswald’s shoulders, letting the man cling to him for as long as needed. “I can see they put you in the Ritz, such a cozy setting.” His sarcasm was clear, eyes on the nearly empty basement.

“It’s fine. I’ve handled worse.” Oswald brushed it off, sniffing in to prevent anything from running out of his nose and onto Edward’s clothes. “You’re alive and that’s what matters. Though… now I regrettably must partner with Galavan, but… I’ll find a way around it.” He promised, raising his head to look at Ed again.

The demon sighed, resting his hands over Oswald’s shoulders. “We’ll deal with that when we get out of here. We’ll make a plan and we’ll cut that devil out of our city for good. Him and his sister. Who, as I found, is not a gentle handler.” He kept his focus on the man, looking so content and pleased.

Oswald stared into Ed’s eyes for a long moment, a smile coming onto his face again. “Quite right! Now to contact Galavan and get this over with.” Oswald hobbled over to the door, pounding on it with a fisted hand. “We’re ready for your deal, Theo.”

There was a brief pause before the door opened, Galavan strolling in before the pair. “You’re ready to make a deal fully, are you? And did I not live up to my word?”

Oswald rolled his eyes, nodding in agreement. “I suppose you did. Now, since I have Edward back, I believe we are now… partners.” He said regrettably in the moment, still… it would pay off in the end. He and Ed would find a way to undercut him and destroy him.

“I’m glad you’re finally seeing reason, Oswald.” Theo’s smile was dangerous, offering his hand out to the man. Reluctant, but a deal was a deal. He shook, feeling the stab of the devil’s double thumbs again. “We’ll discuss more tomorrow. For now, go home, rest, spend time with your… Incubus. We’ll have plenty of time when you are better rested and fed properly.” Galavan concluded, stepping aside to let them leave. “I trust you’ll live up to your deal and not leave Gotham to avoid me?”

Oswald gave Theo a shake of his head, taking Ed’s wrist to head quickly for the door. “No. I live up to my word, I do what I say I will do.” And then loophole what he was going to do in order to benefit himself, but semantics. “As I trust you will.” He spoke, then glanced back to Edward. He wanted to return to the manor, relax, but now there was more to do than ever before. 

He needed a plan, and fast.

Galavan called one of his own drivers to return them to the manor, having gotten through the first phase of his plan to get what he overall wanted.

Oswald sat in the back with Edward, sitting quietly with an arm folded over his torso, the other raised to press his knuckles against his mouth in thought. This was no good. He was stuck with Galavan now, had to bargain with him, deal with him… How to cut him out… How to ruin his deal with a devil…

Ed reached over to set a hand on Oswald’s knee, his face written with concern. The man jumped slightly at the sudden contact, not having expected it, it broke his line of thought. “Got something on your mind?” He questioned, taking his hand back and loosening his tie slightly from his neck.

Oswald shook his head, looking over Ed with a heavy breath. “No… just tired, I presume.” He admitted, needing some kind of rest after this was finished. He was going to pass out like a log that night. “I’m guessing the manor is as I left it? You’ve been there recently, yes? Everything spotless and in working order?”

“Like I’d ever allow it to hit disrepair.” Ed spoke smugly, smirking to Oswald from his seat. He was not the type to allow anything to get out of hand, he was in control of it all.

“No, you wouldn’t at all, would you?” Oswald laughed softly, glad that he could count on Ed to never change. Same went with Riddler. They were so reliably set in their ways. “I… was worried I wouldn’t see you again. You promised me you’d return, but… one can understand after so many days that I was finding doubt.”

Ed’s eyes hardly left Oswald, taking the opportunity to rub the man’s good knee in comfort. “I wasn’t about to leave you alone. Not in general, and especially not with these devils about. Galavan’s fixation on you is dangerous. And I will not let him take you from me.” He claimed with possession, his voice soft but firm. “I’m here to look after you, Oswald.”

Oswald placed his hand on the fiend’s, giving it a small squeeze. “You know, it’s been days since your last feeding. What say we enjoy our new found time together with your recovery and then I’ll feed you?” He questioned with a glance from the corner of his eye, mouth curled with his suggestion to the Incubus.

“Oswald, you little minx.” Ed purred in delight, rubbing his thumb over the man’s knuckles. “I would love to.”

Oswald waited patiently until they returned to the manor, the driver leaving the pair in the driveway before heading back to Gotham. The man lead the demon into the manor, the two remaining separated except for Ed’s attempts to snag the back of Oswald’s jacket. They made it back to the bedroom, Oswald grinning widely as he began to shed layers, taking Ed into a frantic kiss that spoke volumes that it had been too long. 

Ed’s hands explored Oswald’s chest, undoing the tie and unbuttoning the dress shirt Oswald had on. Jacket abandoned on a chair, shirt soon to follow, tie on the floor, Ed’s own layers thrown haphazardly to the side of the bed though crumpled and fell below it. Lips, teeth, kisses, nipping, Oswald’s pants forgone and Ed about to remove his own trousers when a hand crossed his face, leaving a red marking on the skin. The demon laughed, getting in closer to Oswald, staring the human in the eyes, charm face activating quickly. 

“You think you’re the boss, do you?”

Oswald grinned, raising a hand to cup Ed’s face. “I don’t _think_ I’m the boss. I **know** I’m the boss.” He leaned upward to bump their noses together. “And I **know** you’re not my Edward.” 

Ed froze, cringing forward as a sharp stinging penetrated his torso. “Ahhh…! O-Oz… what are y-yo-”

“You don’t get to call me that! Only **he** called me that, and you don’t have that right.” Oswald glared dangerously, removing the knife he had in hand to drive into the bared torso before him again, never removing his eyes from the other. “I don’t know who you are, but you are a poor imitation of Ed at best. And you are not _him_.” 

“I-I don’t… know…” Ed sputtered, leaning forward, hand gripping Oswald’s shoulder until the blade sunk into his body three more times. “P-Please… I… I’m…”

Oswald scoffed, using an arm to shove away the clutching hand, pushing Ed back enough that the fiend fell over, landing on his ass on the floor. “You are **not HIM**!” He yelled, neck strained by the sheer force of his voice. “You are merely PRETENDING to be MY ED! And frankly, you’re doing a poor job of it!” He criticized the being on the floor, noting the deep purple blood that ran down his body. “And would you look at that. Funny, _not_ Ed’s blood.” He commented, leaning down to dip his finger in it, tasting the bodily fluid. “Mhm, seems more like a boysenberry, which I must say, I’m a larger fan of licorice.” This wasn’t even Incubus blood, this thing was in no way Ed. Or Riddler. He was some odd amalgamation of both shoved into one person played by a misinformed actor.

Oswald held the knife at the ready, pointing it at the being who clutched its wounds with a chuckle. “What… what g-gave me away…? A-And… where did you get... that knife?”

Oswald frowned, stabbing the being again in the chest and then by the hip, looking to cover his grounds. “I actually took it from Edward when that she-devil stabbed him. I’ve had it tucked in my vest since she dragged me away. Then hid it in my trousers since you released me from the table this morning. And as soon as you got in the door of the basement I knew you weren’t Ed. You know _nothing_ of Edward Nygma. **Nothing**.” Oswald spat with venom, finding a way to sheath the knife between several ribs of the Ed imposter.

The man had become a trained professional of identifying Ed and Riddler apart for some time now, he could notice it in their eyes, in their expressions. This person had Ed’s face, but used Riddler’s reactions, but mixed in what a basic Incubus might do in charming him. Whatever persona they developed it was far from Ed or Riddler.

“I-I… guess I should ha-have done… more re-research…” The being chuckled, dropping his guise to leave Theo Galavan on Oswald’s floor, clutching his torso from the sting the magic knife gave. “You’re… Y-You’re no one… t-to trifle with… Oswald.”

“And I told you to call me Penguin.” Oswald commented with a frown, aiming the knife at the devil’s head. “So, now that you’ve failed to give me my second-in-command as he was when I knew him last, I believe that means the deals are off.” He stated, glad that he now had his way to destroy Galavan for all he’d done. “Now, how do I kill you?”

Galavan raised his hands, surrendering where he was to the man above him, coughing up purple blood into his mouth, the liquid dripping down his chin. “How about... I make y-you... a deal?”

“ **NO MORE DEALS!** ” Oswald denied with a scream, stomping his good foot on the floor. “Now you listen to me, you pompous ignoramus! You are going to tell me how to kill you as apart of our deal. You failed to live up to your end, now you pay with your life! YOU BOTH **KILLED** HIM! And I’m never going to forget that.” Oswald’s eyes began to water as his frustrations turned to sorrow, not able to even falsely convince himself that the body double was Ed or Riddler and that the fiend was still alive. 

Theo bit his lower lip, blood dripping on the hardwood flooring beneath him as he tried to fight the urge to tell Oswald anything. “I… You… Damn it…” He struggled, eyes closing as he fought against his basic instinct to fulfill a deal. No matter how it turned out, he had a compulsion to complete it. “Devils can’t be killed by basic means. This stabbing with a magic blade will slow me down, but that is all. Devils… Devils have special rock-like matter in their shoulders, as long as they are within feet of each other, we will regenerate. They can’t be broken by any means, but separated and we can’t heal, can’t reform.” Theo spilled the beans, gritting his teeth in distaste. 

Oswald’s eyes focused in on the devil’s shoulders, picking a side to see first. “Goodbye, Galavan, it’s been a displeasure.” The man stated darkly before pouncing on the body in pain sitting in front of him, stabbing relentlessly to both cripple Galavan further and to carve out sections of shoulder flesh. Oswald made a pile of meaty chunks beside them on the floor, driving the knife through the devil’s throat when he wouldn’t stop yelling at the pain. What an annoyance.

It took work, but Oswald dug his way into one shoulder with just the magic blade, it cutting through the devil’s skin like butter. Pieces were left behind as Oswald walked away, thighs, hips and stomach coated in purple blood, the color smeared from his fingertips to nearly his elbows as well. The man even left little purple toe smudges behind himself as he got his robe and abandoned the room.

He stared at the rock he had in hand, covered in the devil’s body liquid but it seemed no different than a piece of charcoal. Interesting. He let out a heavy sigh, calling one of his men over to get him to toss the rock chunk into Gotham City river in a locked box for reasons specific to him. The lackey shrugged and followed orders, leaving Oswald to call for the cleaners while he went to a bathroom upstairs to shower off what he could of the devil blood soaked into his skin. 

Oswald returned to his office afterwards, some of him tinted a lovely lavender color, but… purple really did… bring out his eyes… He swallowed thickly at the thought, arms on his desk for a moment on their own before his head joined them, the man curled into his desk and cried softly to himself for several hours. 

He’d lost them.

His fiend. His demon. His Incubus. His… partner, of varying levels. The two that sought to his care and attention, that looked after things he didn’t even ask, not looking for direct reward other than sweet words and adoration. 

He’d lost them.

And he was never going to let himself be so vulnerable again, it was horrid… this feeling of loss and hopelessness. He had it enough with his mother. His father dangled in front of him, then snatched away. His best shot at a potential… romantic partner was cut out of his life… He was meant to be alone. It was as simple as that.

He was meant to be alone.

Oswald made sure to get the best display box and protective case that he could for the penguin figurine he displayed in his office at the Iceberg Lounge. He stayed at the club, mostly, conducting his business from there where there were fewer memories of the fiend. Still plenty, but less… at least until he could bounce back.

Three days later and he fell hard in his depression, unable to get out of it, even making a trip to Ed’s apartment to be sure rent was paid and no one was snooping around the area. Anything to keep it exactly as it was. No one was going to take Ed’s collection from him. No one. Oswald would see to that. The fiend adored his treasures, his memories, and his collection. He'd have someone come by every now and then to clean over the space.

He would protect and preserve what was left of the Incubus’ memory with everything he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to try social media connecting and whatnot!  
> If you've got questions about the story, drabble suggestions, just want to say hi, or have some Nymobble-suggestions please stop by my new Tumblr page, https://strewnlimbs.tumblr.com .
> 
> I'd love to see you around there! :D


	12. Approval Ratings

It had been four days since Galavan’s defeat and Oswald had one of those rocks locked down and cast into Gotham City River, the body having been cleaned from his room, flooring replaced, looking as if nothing had ever happened. Still, the man had a hard time preventing himself from overworking. 

Oswald hardly slept, barely ate, he figured the least amount of things to distract him from his work, the better. He could focus on that. Focus on getting the job done! And not… focusing on how he watched the clock in the mornings as if Ed was going to walk through the front door at his early rising hours. Or stroll in, in the evening at the club looking for food.

What he wouldn’t give for another moment with either of them… An awkward Ed lips tucked into his mouth face. An egotistical Riddler self-praising compliment. He had it worse than he thought… they were always there though, his support lately, he _trusted_ them. That was serious! They never had that date… They never had that courting, whatever that really was… 

Oswald was miserable on the morning of day eight since the Galavan meeting incident, more fiddling with the pen in his hand, drawing circles on papers than working. A knock on his manor’s office door startled him out of his trance. His heart skipped a beat, but he pushed it down, knowing who it wasn’t. “Come in.” His voice was worn out and raspy from lack of general use, and when he did he was almost yelling or crying out.

A bald head peeked in the door, confirming to Oswald what he already knew. “Another all-nighter, boss?” Oswald shrugged somewhat, going back to looking at his papers on the desk. “Go take a nap for a couple hours, let me and the boys do some odd jobs to fill the time.” Victor offered, knowing Ed hadn’t been back in quite some time. Even he’d been gone a few days, but knew the extent of Oswald’s decline in ambition. 

“No, Victor, I’m fine. Leave me be.”

“Boss…”

“VICTOR! TAKE YOUR GLARING HEAD OUT OF MY OFFICE AND LEAVE!” Oswald’s voice immediately jumped to a scream, voice cracking at the pressure in numerous places. His patience was thin, on little sleep and food he was getting testy quickly with little provocation. Not that he needed much help in that category most days.

Victor shook his head, walking into the room with confidence. “Now, normally that could hurt my feelings, but I know you’re stressed so I’ll let it slide.” He told the other man, making his way to the desk. “Now let’s go get you in bed for a couple hour nap. Something, we’ll get you some kinda sleep so you won’t be yelling at people who don’t deserve it, huh? That’s a great idea!” He claimed.

Oswald glared back under his brow, head tilted down and lower lip shoved upward as his lower jaw was pushed forward.

“Look, your pouts are adorable and threatening, but you need sleep. You’re just a guy, and you’re dealing with some heavy stuff right now. You should at least sleep.” 

“Victor, I’ve had _ENOU-_ ” Oswald stopped mid-sentence when he heard a gun cock, hammer drawn back and one of Victor’s pistols aimed at his head. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Victor smirked smugly, eyes narrowed at the other. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for a week in many different ways. Either not being here, being here, or being a complete dick. Which, I’m gonna add, real uncalled for in most cases. Try me.”

Oswald stared down the barrel of the gun, seeing Victor was quite serious and knew the hitman could if he so wished. “Fine! You win…”

“Yay!” Victor smiled genuinely but didn’t lower the pistol, actually taking out the second as Oswald rose from the chair. The man’s first steps were shaky, his bad leg nearly giving out underneath him until he grabbed his cane leaning against the desk. He had to use it the last few days, his limb was becoming terrible to deal with. “Keep moving, buddy.” 

Victor stalked Oswald down the hall, pistols aimed professionally at the back of his boss’ head and at the base of his neck. Just in case he tried anything clever. He followed Oswald’s drastically limped lead, seeing just how much his shoulder fell each time his bad leg touched the floor. He was a totally broken man… He’d get better, he just needed some glue.

Oswald frowned as he got to the door, only opening it when the second pistol’s hammer was pulled back into place, ready to fire. Victor… and his stupid guns… He walked into the room, eyes shifting from behind him to the bed that was waiting for his occupancy. It looked inviting, but he also hated it. 

“Get on the bed, Oswald. Don’t make me ask again.” Victor threatened, adjusting his hands around the grips of his matched pistols. 

Oswald followed the order, sitting on the mattress as Victor reset the hammers and tucked the guns away. “I hate you.”

“That’s fine, you’re allowed.” The bald man stated easily, accepting the dislike. “I like you and forgive you anyway. Now, what can we get on you to actually sleep in. I’d believe you can make pajamas out of a suit, but might as well try something kind of comfortable, right?” Victor wandered to the closet as Oswald removed his shoes and unbuttoned his jacket, setting it on the bed when the hitman came out holding a set of pajamas on a rack decorated in powder blue polka dots and festive snowmen. “These look cozy.” He commented with a laugh, his face full of amusement.

Oswald’s eyes took in the clothing items before rolling to the side heavily. “You know my mother got me those. I don’t like them, they’re garish in every wrong way.” He rejected the pajama set, focusing on removing his vest next.

“Oh.” Victor’s arm lowered as he went back in the closet, putting away the pajamas on the rack before pulling the next thing and brought it out for Oswald’s inspection. “How about this one then? I like this one.” 

“Victor, I can pick out my ow-”

“Hi, Oswald.”

Oswald froze entirely, eyes locked on the floor as his heart managed to find fuel to rocket itself into his throat. 

“I found him in an alley in Downtown! Curled up like an abused dog someone left to die.” Victor commented, hugging an arm around the tall body’s shoulders. “Couldn’t let him do that out there. He makes you kinda happy. And that date with Yolanda went really well, so… I figure this is even Stevens.” The hitman commented, taking his arm back to himself while the body took steps forward.

Oswald heard the footsteps, holding up a hand to stop it, eyes raising to take note of a completely dishevelled Ed, or Riddler…? Neither…? Was it another devil…? Did he not get rid of Galavan, had he lied and broke the deal?

“If I took off my pants right now, what would you do?” Oswald questioned, asking it with a dead serious expression.

Victor’s eyes bulged wider, jumping from Oswald to Edward. He… might be interrupting at this point… well, he’d stay until he was excused. “Hey now, you shouldn’t really put that kind of strain on yourself before you sleep and eat.”

Ed’s face lit up a little, focus bouncing down to the still trouser covered limbs. “With the scars you’d said I wouldn’t see for some time still? I’d say we’d have another investigation on our hands.”

If Oswald had hiccuped he swore his heart would have fallen out of his mouth. “Ed…! It is you!” Oswald scrambled off the bed, slipping in his haste, knee twisting and sliding from under him, sending the man to the floor. 

“Oswald…!” Ed ran forward, crossing the space between them more quickly than a regular person should, kneeling in front of the man’s collapsed form. “Oswald… what happened? I’m sorry w-… I left you. I’m sorry… I tried to get back to you. I tried to get someone…” 

After Riddler had passed out on the floor, Ed had taken over when he woke hours later in a state of absolute pain and suffering, the burning of the magic from the blade still searing inside him, blood dribbling from the wound as he moved. And Ed did everything he could to leave the building, getting outside to an alleyway, trying to get help to go after Oswald, but the damage had been too much. He blacked out, not knowing when it was, but he woke again to being moved around, being dragged to a vehicle by a familiar voiced body. Even he could hardly remember what was said, all he remembered was the name Victor and a set of struggled words saying he’d be alright. Next thing he came to, it’d been a couple days and he was healing incredibly slowly.

Oswald raised hands to his eyes, rubbing away the tears that were rolling down his face, sniffing heavily to get rid of the snot that wanted to leave him as well. “You’re here again… that’s what matters…” He spoke, lifting his head to expose the now already bloodshot eyes tinted red from his current state. “Tell me something, anything. I don’t care what it is, tell me anything.” He requested, hands lifting to grab a handful each of the front of Ed’s wrinkled suit.

“Uhh…” Ed paused, not sure what to cover. There was a lot he could say. “Did you know there are three types of tears? Continuous to hydrate your eyes, reflex that happens in response to irritants or weather conditions, and,” He informed the human, using a thumb to brush away several of the tears from Oswald’s cheekbones. “Psychogenic.” He spoke while holding his tear soaked thumb up to display them to the man. “Emotional response tears.” 

Oswald stared at the thumb in front of him, eyes crossing slightly to focus on it. He grinned at the educational fact, never being so relieved to hear such an inane, useless piece of information. He shoved the hand away, using the open space to bury himself against Ed’s chest. This, now this was how it should have been in the basement. It should have been real, it should have been one of the demon’s personalities… His arms wrapped around Ed snugly, grabbing at his back desperately. He didn’t have words, he couldn’t form them, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape as he took in the comfort that was Ed’s chest heating up at the extra contact. 

Victor watched the scene with a proud smile, knowing he’d done well. Even Stevens. The hitman slipped towards the door, sneaking out around the pair on the floor. “Merry Christmas…!” He told Oswald more than Ed, though it was almost July, it was a happy surprise. He slipped out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself to leave them alone. For once. Just this one time.

Ed’s chest crackled with his contentment, hugging his arms over Oswald’s shoulders, keeping the man close against him. “You haven’t been doing your hair.” He commented, unable to leave most silences completely silent. The demon grinned at the rare chance, running his fingers through the unstyled, naturally flatter hair Oswald rarely had. He was still washing at the very least, the naturally sweet smell of his shampoo directly under Ed’s nose. Little details he hadn’t fully been able to take in before with the product Oswald always had. “Mhm, it smells nice.” He commented his thoughts aloud, fingers carding through the locks that were strangely obedient. It was all too easy to fluff Oswald’s hair about, pushing it, giving it temporary volume, making it curve around his forehead instead of the usual spiked fringe.

It was absurdly entertaining for simple strands of keratin. 

“Don’t get used to it. This was just because I didn’t have the energy to do it lately…” 

Ed grinned softly, curling a particularly longer set of locks around his finger. “Yes, Mr. Cobblepot.” He agreed obediently, his chest buzzing at the tired laugh he got in return. 

“Good. You have a lot of work to catch up on, Edward. You left and didn’t assign a replacement or a schedule.” Oswald scolded from his place against Ed, voice muffled with the fabric in front of his mouth. “That was irresponsible of you, Edward.”

“I promise it’ll never happen again, Mr. Cobblepot.” Ed brushed out his work with his fingertips, though noted the wave Oswald’s hair began to take with the teasing provided. 

“See to it that it never does.” The man felt well enough to lift his head, letting a breath slowly escape his lungs. “How’s Riddler doing?” He questioned, wondering how the other half was. “Is he around?”

Ed shook his head, thinking how to answer. “He’s been quiet for a few days. He’s around, but he’s not responding.” He could feel the other there at times, when something would happen to his train of thought he would get a familiar push, but nothing more. “I think the whole situation might have left a mark in several ways. Bruised ego, guilt, embarrassed after admitting he was trying to court you.” Ed tried to make a jab at his other half, eliciting a soft pressure in his skull, but it did not go further. 

Oswald nodded, jaw sliding to the side as he thought. “Well, if he’s listening… I should tell both of you, I killed him. I killed Galavan.” He informed the fiend.

“You di-ahhh. Okay, yeah, he’s paying attention.” Ed’s hand pressed against his temple, getting a hard kick in the center of his head. “How…? How did you kill him?”

“Apparently devils can shapeshift to look like other people. Theo Galavan came to me in their keep… looking like you. I’m not sure what he was doing, but he looked like Ed, but was acting like Riddler. Either way, his performance was sloppy.” Oswald began his story, explaining it to the demon and his listening other half. “I made Galavan a deal. He brought me you like the last time I’d seen you, and we would be partners in the city. He failed, he would tell me how to kill him. He shapeshifted as you, did a cheap knockoff level job, and I took him back to the manor.

“I faked sexual interest since what he thought he knew of our relationship was Incubus and human attachment, lead him in here, I regrettably kissed him more than enough times, but lured him close enough to stab him with the knife they used on you. Proved he was not you, he told me how to kill him and I did.” Oswald did not want to miss a detail that might be used against him later. “There are these rocks in their shoulders. If they are parted any distance the devil cannot heal or reform, he said. So I carved one out of him with the knife, and sent it with one of my men to the city river in a lockbox and had it tossed in. So his corpse should remain a corpse. Which was disposed of.” 

Ed took in the story with some surprise, blinking as he registered the pace of the retelling. “Hmm. Well, it sounds as though it was all… effective.” He couldn’t say he didn’t feel a little twang of uncomfortable about the whole… sexual interest, kissing business, but… the plan worked and he was gone. The stabbing feeling in his head seemed to reflect his feelings, but more so. “ _He_ may have an issue with how the plan happened, but… that’s just a territorial thing.” Ed explained with a shrug, taking in Oswald from his position. “We should maybe get you on the bed, I don’t think this is the best place for you to rest.”

Oswald attempted to move, hands on Ed’s arms. He paused a couple inches off the floor, laughing nervously before sinking back down. “I don’t think I can.” His leg was dreadfully sore, worn out, tired from overuse and little rest or care. As much as Oswald could continue, it couldn’t.

Ed’s brows knitted together in concern, moving himself from his place in front of Oswald to stand, offering the man his hands. He held the appendages with a good grip, watching as Oswald prepared for the ascent. “Upsy daisy.” He helped pull the man up onto his better leg, toes of the other just grazing the floor to maintain his center of gravity while Ed stood firm for the both of them. The demon got beside Oswald to act as the cane for his tender side, wiggling under his arm in an awkward crouch to be a proper height for him. 

The two managed their way around and the three feet back to the bed, Oswald sat down on the mattress, partway undressed and hair a wavy mess. His eyes were puffy and red, his cheeks and nose similar shades, sniffling through his emotional rollercoaster. “Can you stay while I rest?” The man questioned carefully, fingers gripping the sheets over the edge of the bed. He really didn’t want to wake up with the demon gone, more than anything. If he thought any of this was a dream for even a moment his heart was going to break. 

Ed pushed his hair back with his hand, it not helping the dishevelled situation he had going. It really only making the natural parting of his hair more predominant. “Sure can. I can give you a little therapy while you sleep, heat up your leg.” He offered to care for the human’s needs to the best of his ability, Ed ever looking to please those around him.

“That would… be very appreciated, yes.” Oswald agreed, liking the sound of things already. This was how everything could’ve been in the last week. And Victor had managed to- “Does Victor know about you?” He asked quickly, the situation occurring to him. 

Ed paused, his fingers fumbling with each other for a minute. “Well… not specifically, no. I can’t say I was able to hide my wound and bleeding while I was unconscious, I woke up wrapped and cared for. I can only assume he saw I wasn’t bleeding red. He hadn’t asked me any questions during my time in his care that were prying. Only if certain things would be helpful.” Ed thought of a way to describe it. “He is unknowing, but likely aware.” 

Oswald nodded, figuring out of anyone else, Victor was the best one to have an idea of what was going on. His loyalty was always assured. “Alright. He’ll be tougher than Galavan to kill if we need to, I’ll warn you now.” Victor had a cockroach’s affinity for living through most anything. Even in a room of flying bullets he could stand in plain sight and barely see a scratch on him at the end. He was a lucky guy.

“I will keep that in mind.” Ed removed his wrinkled, torn jacket, shedding the stained dress shirt with the hole in the back, not having seen the tie Riddler had put on since that night. That must have been long gone. His vest slid off with the shirt, missing two buttons for some reason he didn’t know. He started going through suits like paper at this point, his regular clothes still had some staying power at least. 

Ed moved himself onto the bed, laying down much like Riddler had before when his other half got to be in the situation. He took a pillow for his head and gathered one of the sheets to save for over themselves when comfortable. His feet rested against the headboard instead of on top of it, legs bent slightly so he could be up enough on the bed to cradle the full extent of Oswald’s calf. Meanwhile the man removed what was remaining of his suit, allowing them to heap on the floor with his shoes and other shed layers. It left him in a thin white shirt and a pair of silk navy blue boxers with a stacked diamond pattern across the fabric. 

The demon’s eyes jumped immediately to Oswald’s lower half, focused on the legs he’d never caught full sight of before. It was only the lower portion of one. Oswald’s worse off leg trembled when it moved from over the edge of the bed and onto the mattress, needing a physical hand to make it to Ed’s side. It hurt. It hurt so much… From Oswald’s arch, to his ankle, to his knee and up to his hip, even into his lower back… it hurt. He’d been ignoring it up until then, but until then he’d been able to count on his fallen emotions to make the pain easier to push aside.

Ed held out a hand to accept the limb from Oswald’s care, or perhaps lackthereof, setting it across his body carefully. Still, his attention split onto the other leg, greedily taking in the marred skin across the man’s left ankle and what was no doubt several bullet wounds. The ankle looked like a fire burn, third degree. It was odd though. A high temperature burn in such a confined area was incredibly interesting. Oswald adjusted closer to Ed, not making as much space this time. His body was against the fiend’s as much as he could manage, the back of his thigh sitting on Ed’s hip. As he got into place it gave Ed a brief glance at a long scar going diagonally up his good leg’s thigh and into his shorts. It seemed to be a blade-like slice, but it was rather thick for a typical knife. A sheet of metal perhaps?

Oswald’s attention moved to Ed when he was settled, unable to help but notice that the Incubus’ focus was heavily fixated on such an inner part of his thigh it was nearly his groin. If he, or _someone else_ , didn’t know any better it would seem like a shameless dick stare to determine what caliber his weapon was. Fortunately though, it was Ed. “A piece of bent car metal.” He answered, a hand of his own moving to haul up the short leg of his boxers, keeping himself covered still and everything adjusted safely inside the undergarments. “I got trapped in a car crushing machine at a dump while inside a vehicle. It was getting compacted badly, and some of the metal was crushed down between my legs. I was still trying to find room inside the cab as it was being pushed down upon me, when I moved I cut my leg on one of the broken lengths of metal that was crushed there.” He explained with his thigh rolled out to best expose the paler, pink tinted scarring. That had been one of his more terrifying and convincing brushes with death.

Ed admired it from his position, finding the sheet he’d taken off the bed blindly to begin tossing over them. “You have the most fascinating stories on you.” He complimented the man, covering most of Oswald in the sheet with a few tosses. 

“Many things I’ve done have been well documented somewhere.” Oswald was not without mistakes in his plans. Not every one turned out perfect, sometimes they outright backfired. And then he ended up with scars. Reminders of his failures and faults. Things he learned from quickly. 

Ed turned on his charm when they were comfortable, using the blanket as a layer to keep the heat in and toast the limb to a pleasing temperature all over. “Tell me if this gets too warm.” He asked of the human, brushing his hands over the limb against his chest, trying to relax it.

“No, it’s…” Oswald’s words trailed off as he yawned, body settling into the warmth easily. “...it’s perfect.” He allowed, putting his shoulder behind Ed’s heel, getting cozy against the demon completely without disturbing his _therapy_. He was facing upward until his body relaxed enough when he drifted off, his head rolling to the side to be caught by the demon’s foot. Oswald’s nose pressed against the side of his foot, forehead caught by the front slope of the ankle. 

Ed glanced to the sleeping man from his position, glad to be back in a place that he saw as comfortable and safe. It was like a home away from home. At least… with Oswald around it certainly was. He held the leg carefully, doing what he could to keep it heated, massaging the muscles softly until he couldn’t keep up with it any more. 

He was tired… so tired… He’d had a few souls stored before the meeting, but the amount of healing his body had to do for the damage the magic knife caused had eaten through the small reserve. What he’d consumed and what he’d stored from Oswald was drained quickly, leaving him on nothing, but still wounded. His charm burnt out, returning to a regular temperature with his head bobbing in his position. He needed to feed, but he’d wait until Oswald woke again, the man seemed to be just as worn down if not more. He could use the sleep.

For then, Ed would nap. Conserving what energy he had for later.

 

When Ed woke he felt more constricted than before, but it wasn’t unlike him to move in his sleep sometimes. The blankets were likely twisted around him, binding him up. He’d figure a way out, but… it was a task that could wait. His mind noticed, however, in its inability to be at rest when conscious, that he was no longer holding a limb. The fiend’s eyes opened, having an incredibly difficult time making out the room, everything blurred and out of focus. 

He lifted a hand to feel around his face and his glasses were gone, though they could have slipped off while he was asleep. He turned his head to look for them, his restrictions keeping him mostly in place. Instead of finding the open arms of the spectacles he drove his nose into something solid, soft, and smelling like… peaches? Maybe peaches. 

The dark object moved, his constrictions tightening as his mind reevaluated what it knew and what it could assume. With basic sight and an arm touching the warm weight across his stomach, he could confirm that he had a body on him. “You’re awake.” It spoke in a soft, almost raspy voice. It was a welcomed hushed speaking. The demon unable to stop a small grin from forming at the corners of his mouth as his eyes shut again. Now this made sense. “You… felt cold. Which is odd for you. And… I couldn’t feel you breathing as well with my leg, so… I took it upon myself to claim a new position.” Oswald, his restrictions, spoke.

The man was now on his side, the wrong way on the mattress with Ed, arm across the Incubus’ stomach, the other tucked between them. There must’ve been a knee and a pillow against his legs somewhere, likely the pillow to help Oswald maintain support to his injured leg in the new position. The demon rested his cheek against the top of Oswald’s head, arm draped over the man’s with his hand holding Oz’s forearm. “I apologize, I hadn’t planned on sleeping when we laid down.”

Oswald let his face stay pressed into Ed’s shoulder, chin somewhat digging into the demon’s collarbone. “No need.” He didn’t need the apology, knowing the week and a day had been long for the two of them. “If you are so tired, I believe I still have a few souls left. It’s not many, but I’ll be getting more soon. Should be in a few days.” His next contract’s fine print would kick in and when those employees were paid he’d get another stack of souls. He’d wanted to space them out to easily track times, trying to assess when the flipping time was to gain the first crew’s soul halves again. Until then he had fifteen other groups to go through.

Ed involuntarily licked his lips at the idea of feeding, his body desperate for the energy. “Yes! ...Uhh… please.” He… _really_ wanted to feed… His first answer coming out in a pop of an excited response. “If… you wouldn’t mind.”

Oswald laughed in his contented, breathy way, lifting his head to get a better view of the demon from his angle. “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t feed my guest?” He questioned. The arm under Ed’s rotated slightly, holding the fiend’s forearm in return, joining their free hands between them. He didn’t want to get up and get binds for Ed, it’d be fine. He would act as the reminder not to get handsy around his neck. “Does this suit you?”

Ed considered the situation, trying to take note of the scene but without his glasses, most of it was foggy at best. “This suits me well.” He agreed, feeling his chest rise and fall beyond his control, his charms wanting to activate again, but didn’t have the energy to have the spark spread. He could have been mistaken for hyperventilating, or spasming. 

Oswald, catching the sight of Ed’s chest in his peripherals, pulled back curiously to witness the muscle contractions in full. “What… are you doing?”

Ed’s mouth pulled into a tight line, glancing down though the feeling was more than enough to inform him of the situation. “Oh dear…” He knew about this, but it hadn’t happened in some time, he was well acquainted with the movements. “I’m having some physiological issues…” He began, taking a hand away to rest on his chest. “I apologize, this… doesn’t usually happen…” It was… embarrassing.

“Ed, what is happening?”Oswald questioned, sitting up more on his good side, using his now free hand that sat between them to prop himself over the body.

“It… It happens when my body is trying to use its natural charm but I… can’t get it started…” He admitted with a heavy swallow. An Incubus or Succubus that couldn’t actively use their charm… an accurate way to compare the feeling would be a human male’s erectile dysfunction. It was rather embarrassing, obvious when it happened, and triggered usually during a moment of intended passion of some kind. It was not how a creature of natural seduction was supposed to be. “I suppose I don’t… have the proper energy for it.”

Oswald’s head tilted curiously, eyes on the contractions with interest. “So we feed you, we stop this. I don’t see what it is that you are you still waiting for.” The answer seemed simple. Why gripe about it when they could fix it in a moment? “I must do everything myself.” The man took Ed’s free hand again, making sure it was in check and accounted for before closing the gap between them. It made Oswald curious in the back of his mind if that was why Riddler refused to be seen lately. Was the other side of the fiend hiding because he didn’t have enough power? He knew their energy was down and he denied being seen as _‘weak’_ , so he stayed hidden. 

It was a possibility.

Oswald wasted little time with their opening affectionate formality. At the moment he was much more concerned with feeding Ed and getting his energies back to where they should be. They could worry about their personal intimacies to each other afterward. After only a few exchanges of lip contact, the man’s jaw began to slack open, inviting the fiend to feed from him and the dwindling soul supply. The demon missed the first cues, used to the build up that they had. So when he missed a reasonable sized target to instead kiss only Oswald’s upper lip he could tell there was little foreplay in this. He matched his business partner while his hands gave small squeezes to the appendages meant to keep him aware.

Ed went to work, breathing in the souls he was allowed to have, needing to consume one soul before his muscle spasms began to fade, the spark in his chest able to roll into a dull heat under his skin. It wasn’t until the second soul left Oswald that the spark made any sort of reaction physically. It began to crackle, giving him the usual pleasant feeling back. He was starving though, healing after a magic attack was so much worse than he imagined, and having been separated from Oswald for eight days gave his now spoiled, regularly soul consuming body a reason to whine about not feeding. 

The demon’s hand that held Oswald’s forearm began to wander, interested in forming a better bond with the feeding. It raised from contact with the man’s appendage, brushing along Oswald’s jaw instead. As Ed inhaled, a tongue came over to greet his own, getting bored with just the wide mouthed kissing. They should do something interesting with the open design of their mouths. Human tongue coaxing demon’s, he managed to get Ed’s attention to return the internal affection. Fingers along his jaw stretched out to encompass the side of his head, thumb tenderly paying attention to Oswald’s cheekbones. 

Ed drank in the souls, getting into a third when a thicker flavor hit his tongue, something heavier than the souls he was taking in. It wasn’t much, but a flavor nonetheless. It was bitter, dark, rich. He leaned forward into the kiss without paying much mind to it, his hand slipping from Oswald’s jaw to the side of his neck with his thumb getting very friendly with the skin there in a windshield wiper-like motion. He wanted more of that taste, unsure where in the line of souls he was with Oswald. 

The new hand position got Oswald’s attention and he responded as needed, gripping his hand around Ed’s forearm, squeezing as hard as he could in order to keep the Incubus thinking about where his hands were. Ed wasn’t paying an incredible amount of attention, breathing in deeply with the new flavor he wasn’t used to tasting in almost any of the souls he ever was able to consume. 

Oswald noticed the thumb favoring the front of his neck, trying to move over stealthily as the fiend’s tongue made a home in his mouth, stroking under his own with interest. That was quite enough of that. The man took back his hand briefly, just long enough to slap down on Ed’s skin sharply. Just as hand made impact with skin Ed jumped back from Oswald, getting hit in the mouth with a sharp stinging like his tongue had been cut by a knife. His legs slid off the bed, but most of him remained on the mattress despite his jumping, pulling away from the kiss with a hand covering his mouth in defense.

“Ahhhh! Owwwww…!” His brows knitted together, the inner ends sliding upwards in his pain and discomfort. Unlike Riddler, he wasn’t a fan of the stinging. He whined as he took his hand away, mouth hanging open as he licked his lips. The demon’s blood smeared onto his mouth, staring at Oswald in confusion. “Mhmm… Ow…” So _that’s_ what the hex was like. 

_“Can’t stand a little pain?”_ Riddler’s voice came into his head, Ed glancing to the side to see his other half sitting in a chair, dressed impeccably as he usually was. From the hat, to his suit, all the way to his boots, he was looking more dapper than ever. _“Have I prepared you for nothing? We were stabbed with magic, and you jump at this?”_

“The two aren’t exactly comparable, I felt the after effects and I haven’t been hexed before…!” Ed complained to his other half, glaring at him from his place on the bed. His long legs made their way back onto the mattress, the demon sitting up more as he pressed a finger to the sore area, still feeling his thicker blood there. “It hurt…” 

Oswald’s posture changed at the comment, looking off where Ed was as though he had developed the ability to see the other half in the demon’s head and where he was projected. “He’s here? How has he been feeling?” He questioned, wanting to know how the other was holding up. 

_“He’s still asking…”_ Riddler commented, sitting forward on his chair as his eyes fixated on Oswald. _“I don’t get it. We’re the same body, if you’re fine then I’m fine.”_ He rejected the emotional care, feeling sore emotionally from being bested by Galavan, and Oswald needing to resort to such… forward tactics to gain an upper hand. That could have all been accomplished with 100% less making out with the enemy. 

And the devil stealing their identity to use on Oswald. Despicable. 

Ed shook his head, feeling something off about something. The room perhaps? No… That wasn’t it. Riddler was there, it was possible his newly returned presence was throwing off the balance he’d began finding again with the peace by himself. “He isn’t asking if our body is okay. It’s us. He’s asked about me, as you know. And no-”

Oswald put a hand on Ed’s arm, hearing how this was going from the one side of the conversation he could have. “Now I wish to hear how you are coping, Riddler. Dying isn’t simple, it’s far from it. I consider myself something of an expert.”

“You’re an expert on dying?”

_“It’s a philosophical debate on whether he’s more of an expert for still being alive, or less qualified for not being dead. I would say in this particular case it’d be the latter.”_

“I’ve died twice, I’ll have you know.” Oswald’s voice almost sounded braggy, his focus on Ed at the moment. He switched his attention to Riddler, cocking a brow. “And the same possibly goes for you, however you answered. I imagine it was something snarky though.” 

Riddler got up from his seat, sauntering over to Oswald with a tilt to his head. _“It’s like he can hear me sometimes out here. Which is impossible, but… he’s quite intuitive.”_

Considering the mass amounts of scar tissue Oswald had across his body, it was somewhat surprising that his count wasn’t higher, but Ed was more grateful that it wasn’t. “He knows you to a degree by now, I don’t see how this is surprising.” The nicer half teased, playing it up that Riddler really should _know_ better by then.

_“I… Well of course it’s not truly surprising! What do you take me for, you? A common moron?”_ Riddler questioned, leaning forward towards Oswald with an arm across his body, opposite arm’s elbow propped on top while his fist was at his chin. The figment leaned into his hand, eyes narrowing as he took in Oswald. _“I clearly made the more brilliant choice, again, of deciding that Oswald was a good partner and worthy of pursuing. You’re welcome, by the way.”_ He took credit for their interest.

“Mhmm, always right. Never wrong once in his life.”

_“Are you mocking me?”_

“Are you so thick you need to ask?”

_“ME?! THE THICK ONE?! Oh, Eddie, if you were the only one in charge we would’ve been dead a century and more ago!”_

“If I was in charge we wouldn’t have done your stupid plan!”  
 _“My plan wasn’t stupid! The fact you’re too dim-witted to see its full effect in our mind is soooo telling.”_  
“Right. Is that the ending where we die either way? Or is that the ending where we still die?”  
 _“THAT WAS AN INCALCULABLE VARIABLE! SHE SHOULDN’T EXIST WITH HIM AROUND!”_  
“Then it sounds like to me that **YOU** messed up and can’t admit it! How surprising.”  
 _“And what did you do?! Oh yes, nearly exposed us to the general public by dragging us outside!”_  
“We were found by Zsasz weren’t we?!”  
 _“You had dumb luck, we could’ve been discovered by anyone! Even your luck is as moronic are you are!”_  
“I am **NOT** a moron! Stop saying that!”  
 _“You are by far the most ridiculous, stupid, most obvious case of Darwinism that never happened that SHOULD HAVE!”_  
“THAT WOULD KILL YOU TOO, YOU POMPOUS IDIOT!”  
 _“AT LEAST I THEN WOULDN’T BE STUCK WITH YOU IN MY HEAD! I COULD GET PEACE!”_  
“I WOULD RATHER BE DEAD SOMETIMES THAN HAVE YOU-”

“ **ENOUGH!** ” Oswald’s voice cut through the room like a hot knife through butter, unfortunately it also sounded like someone had taken a dull butterknife to his throat. Screaming as he did was stressful, and at that point he was up a nap, but nothing else. His body was still much time away from recovering from the last week. “...Enough… the both of you… please…” He was still worn down, and hearing the words _‘kill you too’_... he didn’t need the reminder that Riddler had been dead on the floor a while ago, that Ed had been gone with him. It was too soon… “...Both of you… please stop…”

Ed and Riddler both stared at Oswald, either side of the demon in a different stage of guilt. Oswald… was crying. His strained voice hiccuping with every desperate inhale, the mix of hurt and anger on the man’s face as tears filled his eyes. “Oz, I didn’t… we didn’t mean…”

_“We meant it. Don’t lie to him.”_ Riddler defended Oswald, or as his mind saw it, anyhow. _“We didn’t mean for it to hurt him, but we meant it.”_

“Right…” Ed let go of a breath, eyes downcast as he attempted to think of a way to fix this. Everything was fixable. Everything was solvable. He only needed the right answer… “We didn’t mean for it to hurt you, as _he_ said. It’s very easy to get caught up with someone in your head all the time.”

“I don’t care how it was meant. I don’t care what the reason is! But you will cease and desist any of that immediately!” Oswald demanded of the pair, eyes glistening with the added… what were they… “Now you get rid of these… psychotic tears right now, or so help me…!”

Ed bit his lower lip with a grin, Riddler snickering from his place by the bed as well. “Psychogenic.” He corrected softly, unable to help himself. Ed scooted closer to Oswald, moving in to the man’s side to aid in the removal of their fault-caused tears. “Although the thought that humans evolved in such a way to drip a water-like substance from their eyes simply because of a set of electrical impulses in the brain and different hormone levels is a little psychotic.” He stated, taking Oswald by the shoulders to pull him into a hug against his bare chest. Now better fed and pleased with having Oswald nearby, as well as being able to share information that the man… mostly absorbed, the spark in his chest crackled in delight.

Oswald let Ed hold him closely, focusing on a sound he’d never fully been able to absorb before because he was never at this angle. He could hear it. Something in Ed’s chest that sounded like… like someone was crushing a paper ball in their hands. Or perhaps like someone fiddling with a plastic shopping bag. It wasn’t deafening, but there was absolutely a sound there. “You don’t have a heartbeat.” Oswald commented absentmindedly, his ear flush to the skin the demon had out for his leg but now it was his to enjoy as he may. 

Ed’s hands adjusted around Oswald’s shoulders and back, fingers playing with one of the sleeve edges of the man’s shirt without intention. He was thinking, his hands needed something to do. “Does that disturb you? I can imitate one, if you wish.” He offered in trade. Incubi and Succubae had the stunning ability of circulation control. Which seemed pointless in description, but in practice it was quite handy. It helped regulate their body temperatures in different mid-realm climates, it could move so quickly it could cause a sound resembling a heartbeat with muscle control, it aided in many sexual conquests as well. Being able to willfully control their circulation could be positive in allowing sexual-based bonding with other creatures who’d caught their interest. Giving them an encouraging physical response. Or, on the opposite end of that spectrum, completely deny reaction to any creature they weren’t pleased with that attempted to get a literal and metaphorical _rise_ out of them.

Oswald’s ear was trained curiously on Ed’s chest, his brows furrowing and the new trick being a viable distraction from his hurt feelings. The crackling faded as what seemed to be a regular, human heartbeat took its place, beating feely as though Ed needed it to. “No, no! Bring it back, I want to hear it again.” He requested, having no interest in listening to a human heart. Although it was an astounding amount of control however it was that the fiend was accomplishing this. 

“If you insist.” Normally humans loved hearing the sound of another human heartbeat. So that Oswald didn’t want to hear it was odd. In his curiosity his spark died off, his chest cavity becoming deathly quiet. 

Oswald’s head pulled back from the chest with a pout pushing his lower lip forward. “No, make that noise again.” He requested of the demon, using his whole hand to gesture to his chest. “Make that wrinkling sound.”

Ed’s brows temporarily sat nearly on his eyes, debating what Oswald meant. “Wrinkling sound? Oh! You’re referring to my spark sound. I can’t, or not on demand to the exact sound you want.” 

“Why not? You seem to do everything else on demand, you can’t manage this?” 

“I can turn on my charm and create _a_ sound, but it won’t necessarily be the same sound.”

Oswald’s eyes squinted as he considered the options. “Is this related to when you start burning up? Do you make different sounds for each feeling?” 

Ed nodded with a grin, feeling rather pleased that Oswald paid so much attention to his internal workings. “Yes, actually. Depending on the level of emotion will depend on the sound intensity. The sound itself is relatively the same, it’s like a wrinkling sound or that of a fireplace. How intensely we feel an emotion will cause the sound to be more soft or more aggressive.” He explained, taking in how Oswald’s focus was trained unwaveringly on his sternum. “Happiness, passion, charm use, intimacy, and feelings of positive natures will trigger a more active and soft sound, one… much like you were hearing. Anger, frustration, jealousy, asserting dominance, and feelings of a negative nature are sharp and snapping. It would sound more like… hmm… well, it’d be like listening to a popcorn maker.”

Positive feelings. So to get the noise back he just had to make Ed happy. How difficult could that be? He was a master at emotional encouragement! And manipulation, but that was such a negative word to use when he was addressing the demon. “Sooo… Ed.” He began, Oswald gaining the fiend’s ear with a tone that couldn’t be mistaken for anything, clearly stating _‘I want something’_. 

“Oswald…” 

“You know how much I appreciate your facts and your genius intellect, don’t you? How you put them to use?” Oswald questioned, light eyes glancing up to Ed from under his brow, a small grin gracing his mouth. 

Ed rolled his eyes at the attempt, shaking his head. “It’s cute, but I know what you’re doing. You’re purposefully using positive reinforcement in order to make my body produce the sound.” Much like with Riddler’s treat backed, good behavior tricks, it did little to manipulate him when he knew what was happening. “Seems less genuine.”

Oswald huffed, his grin quickly fading as he thought of a better way to approach the situation. “I’ll have you know that it is entirely genuine. I’m simply using it now more obviously than I normally would.” He pointed out, not about to use entirely falsified or lied emotions or thoughts against Ed. “I’m insulted you would suggest such a thing.”

“I did say _‘seems’_ , not meaning that it is entirely false. Only that it appears to be.” 

“Well, you know what they say, appearances can be deceiving.” Oswald shut that down quickly, leaning back fully from Ed to further explore his new angle on the situation. “It’s completely genuine, in its seems and in its intention, thank you. I noticed in going through files the last couple days that you put priority tags on certain businesses at some point. I’m not sure when you had time for that, but you did.”

Ed developed a small grin, his hands finding each other over his lap. “You noticed?”

“You prioritized them somehow, I’m still not entirely sure how, but clearly some are more important than others. You not only did the research on the piers that we’d been speaking of last week, but you had already began to solve the issue. You had paperwork made and filed, I signed them… maybe yesterday and put them in effect.” He believed it was yesterday, a lot of his last few days blended into each other. 

The fiend shrugged softly, batting a hand in the air to brush off the attention. “It was a simple task to perform, I had some spare time.” His smile began to spread, quite happy that Oswald had noticed, his chest sparking with his delight. “And the businesses are beginning to be prioritized by their potential and mathematically plotted growth predictions. I didn’t get very far, but it was a start. Depending on their area and surrounding environments their value or production could raise in the next coming seven months, depending how city development continues.” He was proud to talk about his work, having done temporary searches into city planned refurbishing, franchises, and future construction plans.

Cities and towns were in an ever shifting balance of priority and popularity. And as cities grew, their territories sometimes needed remodelling. It was odds and statistics, maths that could somewhat predict possibility of usefulness. It was truly up to time though, and whoever was in power had different views of what building types needed focus.

Oswald stared for a long moment, jaw slacked open as he half took in the information. Of course. Of course that’s what he did. It was so simple. ...He was something else. “Well, naturally that is what you did…! This is why you make such a thorough second-in-command for me. You cover every base no one would have thought of. You are going to keep things relevant around here.” The man spoke with praise, seeing Ed’s eyes light up with the recognition. There! He should be happy right there! “It will be good to work alongside you again, now that you’ve returned.” He spoke, hugging himself against Ed’s chest again, hearing the pleasant sounds inside the cavity.

“And I-” Oswald did it. “Wait…” The man was making his spark react in his positive emotional responses. “I knew what you were up to and still-”

“Nooo, shh.” Oswald hushed the demon, patting his warmed skin affectionately. “You’re doing it again.” 

Ed grinned down to the man with an ear against the center of his chest. He would make such an excellent demon of some sort. “You are such a fascinating human.” He replied fondly, chest still crackling in his overall delight. His arms went around Oswald again, letting the man do what he wished. If he was happy, Ed found it made him happy as well.

Oswald really just wanted to hear the sound in the demon’s chest again, it was soothing for him. It reminded him of his preferred fireplace in the manor, the one he had lit as soon as possible without turning the room into an oven. If he could hear this… spark on occasion, feel Ed heating up, it would be like his own personal fireplace. It brought him back to days he and his mother would be in her apartment, she would light the fire on cool days and they would talk, hands held within each other’s. It reminded him of simpler days, simpler days when he had no power, respect, recognition. He had her though. At the time, that had been enough on some days. 

He missed her. 

She would’ve liked Ed. Probably not Riddler, but she would have adored Ed. She would approve of him. Think he was a handsome, brilliant man. They’d… leave out any of his demon heritage. She had been wary enough of any beautiful woman and her _demon purse_ , an actual demon romancing her son might have been too much. 

There was a keyboard in Ed’s apartment as well. If he played, which Oswald could only imagine that he did and did quite well, that she would have taken such a shine to him. He would have taken her to meet Ed at his apartment, show her how well he had done with his good-guy job helping officers solve murders. Said that he was bringing Ed into his line of work to help the city renew itself and make it better for everyone. Simple, harmless lies. Things that would make her so proud to hear. 

The man could picture his wonderful mother reaching up to cup Ed’s face in her hands, admiring his features, tilting his head all about to get the best look at him that she could. She would have pulled Ed down to her level, looked him in the eyes and stood her ground against the otherworldly being. She would have approved of him and his character. Oswald had no doubt. Ed was the guy _‘you could bring home to mother’_. His mother would have put a big kiss on either of his face, patted his cheek and then released his face to ask about them. 

She would have approved of Edward Nygma.  
He was certain of it.

Oswald’s arms constricted themselves around Ed’s ribs, fingers pressed into the fiend’s back, determined not to let go. He was still tired, still worn down, still lacking any proper nourishment. With the lack of energy it made it easy for the sounds in Ed’s chest to lull him into sleep again, the fantasy scenario playing in his head. In his sleepy state missing how the demon still held him regardless. How warm the Incubus’ chest was in contentment and happiness. And how Ed rested his jaw on top of his head comfortably, sitting quietly for the time being.

For now, he'd enjoy having the human back.


	13. How the Man Howls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of got away from me at a point.   
> But! There are important discoveries made so... it couldn't just END before or in the middle of. 
> 
> Consider the extra 3 and something pages to make up for the extra 3 day wait this should've been posted.

Tabitha Galavan had her fair share of disappointments in life. Things that got under her skin, things that upset her to think about. To this point she refused to show it, but she didn’t like that she hadn’t seen her brother in days. It’d been a week and a day and he hadn’t returned. By then he should’ve been back, should have had the rest of the energy that gimping freak had and collected on those properties. 

To be fair, she shouldn’t have a brother to worry about to begin with, not in their species. And that was half true. Her brother Theo wasn’t from her hutch, or any others her mother had. They did, however, share a father that snuck his way around two she-devils to foster multiple hutches. They hadn’t known about each other for just over a decade, the two of them the strongest of their hutches. There was a lot of sibling rivalry at first, but as they got older, when they were around 240 years old, it didn’t seem to matter as much.

At that point they found they gained so much more by working together than trying to compete against each other. Tabby was not the best at making deals, she didn’t offer them nearly as often as her brother did. She made a few long-term deals and stuck to her word in the most loyal of manners. Her brother made fast, multiple deals and did just as well. 

She worried about him though, as much as she wouldn’t show it to anyone. She rapped her fingernails against Theo’s desk, sitting in his chair in his skyscraper office as she looked out over the city. She had sent people out to find him, but he was nowhere to be found. The last place to look was with that hobbling weirdo. Theo shouldn’t still be posing as the Incubus, but maybe things went wrong and he had no time to contact her. As off as that would be, but she didn’t like what was going on. 

And this needed recon. 

 

Oswald conducted business from home that day, Ed constantly nearby, buzzing around him to monitor how he was doing. He didn’t ask every time if Oswald was alright, merely stepping in to adjust something the man was doing before wandering off to his own business again. And Oswald was somewhat thankful for that, he didn’t need repeated pestering, but the continued care was thoughtful of the Incubus to give.

Several times that day Oswald begrudgingly ate or took a five minute break, knowing that he should but really didn’t want to. He felt like he was more behind in his duties than he was, though Ed working along with him cut down a lot of the labor time. Zsasz was both surprisingly helpful and less surprisingly staring at Ed curiously when he had the chance. Not subtly. Not politely. Dead on stared at the demon when he had the opportunity, trying to figure out just what the fiend was.

Through the day Zsasz was wrong a number of times, but he said eventually he was going to guess right. He was very stuck on several species of aliens though, thinking himself in the right galaxy. 

After dinner and proceeding several calls to his club and favorite establishment, Oswald was guided to his bedroom to sleep. It was already into the morning, the pair having worked until 1:37, and Ed was determined to have Oswald feeling at least rested by the next day. They were still working on portion moderation with Oswald and finding the balance between him rejecting meals and him overeating for what little he had all week and getting sick. So food would balance in the next day or two.

Oswald requested Ed stay the night, claiming that if he woke without the Incubus around that he was going to feel like the day was only a dream. That Ed had never actually returned to the manor in one piece. The demon wouldn’t want to put that kind of fear in him, so he should stay. Ed agreed to the request, ready to sleep where allowed as it meant no difference to him. What he expected was a chair, or at most a guest room somewhere in the manor. What he did not expect was Oswald inviting the demon to share the king sized mattress with him in the master bedroom. 

The man felt a bit fearful so he focused more on the fiend, making him a priority when he didn’t need to be. Ed accepted the offer, his face giving away his surprise, but graciously took the accomodations. His chest warmed and crackled with the thought that Oswald was so attached, getting out of his ruined suit to put on a set of pajama pants that were a bit too short, but they stretched well in the waist. Shirts were not an option for stealing, although roomy enough, most seemed to end short with the already shortened pajama pants. Naturally, everything Oswald owned was hemmed to his stature.

Oswald, having never shared a bed with anyone except his mother on occasions when he was growing up, felt paranoid having his back to Ed. He didn’t like the feeling of having his eyes closed knowing that someone was behind him in the dark. It made him feel uneasy. It was something he trained himself not to allow to happen. In the light of day, it was acceptable enough, but in the dark… anything could be hiding.

The only way to be sure the body wasn’t going to do anything was to hold it down. Oswald’s eyes opened to stare at the wall through the darkness across from him, shoulders shifting uncomfortably. No, he had to fix it. 

Oswald rolled over, noting the back of the shoulder facing him when he did so. He knew it was Ed and he knew that nothing would come of sharing the dark room with him, but like with needing to defend his leg from further damage… he couldn’t help the need to protect himself until he could be sure he was right. An arm wiggled between the demon’s arm and ribs, hand flat to stomach and holding him in place to be sure the only other body in the blackened room didn’t move. Oswald’s head leaned forward against the Incubus’ shoulder blade, relaxing again when he knew Ed couldn’t deviate without him knowing.

The position seemed very domestic, a thought creeping into Oswald’s head that he tried to silence. Something that worried him deeply to his core that he shoved into a locked pantry cupboard in his mind. Best to ignore it and perhaps it wouldn’t be an issue.

Ed, very rarely ever shared a bed with anyone, it had happened on occasion though. It wasn’t something he often had the chance with. He maintained a respectable distance with Oswald, backs within inches of each other despite the size of the mattress. So when an arm pinched its way between his body and limb to hold him in place, he was… somewhat surprised to say the least. He was tall, thin for his height but still had body, someone making him a small spoon wasn’t a common occurrence. 

Oswald’s positioning really seemed to Ed like an affectionate gesture, his arm stacked neatly beside the man’s. His hand hung somewhat over the one visiting him, the demon closing his eyes again to start on the rest he’d like to get in order to save the two souls he still had left in storage. His chest still warmed at the opportunity to be held by someone else, tiny cracklings sounding under his skin, the temperature change not going unnoticed by Oswald behind the fiend.

“Sleep well, Oswald.”

“Good night, Edward.”

 

Most things remained calm through the night. The manor was silent save for the two men that patrolled at night, walking the halls with automatic firearms in their hands in order to react as needed.

The other man missed when Mark went to the bathroom for five minutes too long, when he came back to monitor the yard and was taking prime interest in the gardens and the windows. The man suspiciously glanced in every one, playing his role well when his security buddy was around. He finally found the window he was looking for, able to see a pair of bodies inside on a bed in an almost black room. Theo must have been playing some sort of game with this if he was going as far as to actually bed the human. It was an annoyance, but it was time to take what they wanted and ended whatever meaningless ploy he had in motion. 

Mark found his partner on patrol again, slitting his throat and taking him into bushes out of sight. He returned to where he found the pair he had searched for, jimmied the window open silently, his form shifting to that of a slender woman in all black in order to fit through the opening. The she-devil slipped inside, closing the window softly behind her and laid her eyes on the pair in the dark room. Tabitha Galavan was able to see in the dark as though the lights were on, everything she saw in a reddish hue. She snuck over to the bed, seeing the human curled around the other form and one moment of sense told her everything was wrong.

His energy was entirely off.  
That wasn’t her brother… 

Tabitha paused, feeling her guts flip over at the very thought. Theo hadn’t returned and now the Incubus somehow came back and was there…! Tabby was sad for a record of two seconds when her despair quickly boiled into a rage. Theo would have returned, he would’ve made plans with her even if the Incubus came back. He would’ve done something to tell her where he was or what the next moves were. He planned everything for them, she offered suggestions and did the dirty work. She could figure something out, but she wasn’t a planning type, she was an actions type. If there was planning, she planned how to flat out kill someone as quickly and directly as possible. 

Like how, at the moment, Tabitha grabbed the handles of two daggers on the outsides of her thighs, drawing them out of their sheaths. The Incubus killed her brother and now she was going to return the favor. He must have been dead. The other demon figured out their weakness and took advantage of it. The leech must have. And now he was going to pay with whatever life it was that he gained back. With her teeth bared and grit she drove a dagger into Ed’s side, pushing with much of her power and shocking the Incubus awake. 

“Ahhh!” Ed’s yell scared Oswald awake, making the man jump a foot backwards and nearly rolled out of the bed, saving himself with a hand that clutched the nightstand on his side of the mattress. “Oooow…! No, no!” It only took him a moment to register what was going on, hand shooting up to grab a shadowed, blurry arm before she could stab him with her second knife. 

“I’m going to kill you, you freak!” Tabby declared with fury in her expression, shouting in Ed’s face as she jumped onto the bed over him, legs straddled on either side of his torso to gain a leverage advantage. She withdrew the first blade from his body as they struggled for control of the first, trying to stab him in the chest with it until the fiend had grabbed her by the wrist of her other arm, both of them pushing to get what they wanted. “You killed him! You sex mongering beast, I’m going to slaughter you. I’m going to cut you apart, and then your little boy toy is next.” 

Ed took her threats as incredibly serious, knowing her focus was better on him at the moment than Oswald. He could only assume by _him_ that she meant her brother. And she didn’t have to know that it wasn’t him who killed Theo. She only knew Riddler, he had to fulfill him playing them both playing a standard Incubus. Oh dear… “Galavan had it coming!” He growled in return, though the passion wasn’t behind his anger, it was too rehearsed. 

A light in the room turned on, both fiends squinting as their eyes adjusted to the sudden change in visibility. Ed’s blinking to take in the blurry room had him miss when Tabby yelled. Something metal made contact with something solid, the _thunk_ lead to a change in the she-devil’s grip, allowing Ed to shove her off of him and onto the floor. He immediately fumbled for his glasses, getting them on to be able to see Oswald knelt on the bed with his cane in hand, holding it above his head and across his chest. He reset his arm, ready to swing it again at Tabby if she got too close.

“And you’ll be next, devil! You dare break into my house?! You won’t leave this estate alive!” Oswald threatened her with little fear. Or at least little showing. He dealt with one devil, he could handle a second one. 

“I’m going to enjoy killing you both.” Tabitha scowled, jumping off the floor to lunge herself at Ed again, focused heavily on who she picked to be her larger threat in the room. She didn’t see a real issue coming from the gimp who played rectal roulette with an Incubus. He got in a lucky shot, but from some everyday item, she had no fear.

Ed was shoved back onto the bed again, the she-devil putting her weight and strength into his chest to gain an advantage, stunning him briefly as he was on his back, Tabitha still held her knives in her hands and drove both blades into Ed’s stomach. The fiend flinched in pain with his false blood pooling to the surface as Oswald swung the cane at the devil again with a strained grunting, though this time he wasn’t as lucky. Tabby caught the staff of the cane, smirking at the human confidently until the man’s hand slipped down the shaft to grab the Penguin head of the walking stick. Oswald’s familiarity with its locking grip could twist the head of his cane in such a way with just his palm, able to withdraw the knife inside and backswing it across her throat. Human looking blood, similar to Ed’s, began to drench the front of her throat and onto her leather jacket. 

Tabitha grimaced, at the sting, but it was no magical blade so she wouldn’t worry. With a new weapon in hand she managed to swing the hollow cane staff at Oswald, knocking him off the end of the bed and onto the floor. She dropped the staff beside her again to focus on her knives, caring little for the blunt weapon when she had better options. 

“Oswald!”

“You are all such selfish, stupid animals! All of your kind. You only care about one thing. As long as you’re getting laid, you’re so proud of yourselves.” Tabitha clearly had a spiteful view towards the Incubus and Succubus species, fighting Ed’s awful defense to stab him in the stomach again. “Try to screw your way out of this one, leech.” 

Ed groaned at each impact. He could count on luck that she didn’t seem to have any magical blades on her, either that or she was saving them, and only had to deal with human-made knives at the moment.

_“Let me out, Eddie. I can handle her. Let me out! I’m going to finish off the other half for what they’ve tried to do.”_ Riddler was waiting for his chance to escape, hardly any better in a fight than Ed, but he had a few advantages that the sweeter of them didn’t. A physical fight was by far neither of their fortes, but he could manage. _“She hurt him! Are you going to let her get away with that?! She wants to **kill** him, Eddie! Let me out!”_

“I… I can’t…!” 

“You’re damn right you can’t!” Tabitha thought the Incubus was talking to her, about to sink a blade into Ed again when her wrist was caught, the demon finding a way to grab both of her hands again to try and keep her back. “You can’t use your _superior charm_ on me.” She grinned, knowing she had an advantage, pushing down on his hands and using the strength from souls she’d been collecting since childhood to her advantage.

Against Ed who never was able to reach his complete potential due to his stunted growth, struggled against her pushing, not having it in him to completely fight her back. In the heat of the fight, his adrenaline rushing, and a need to survive keeping him focused he couldn’t relax enough to have Riddler take over. His instinct kept him locked behind the wheel, doing what he could to push her hands to the side to deflect her stabbing him again.

Which nearly worked, the Incubus getting her blades away from his stomach, feeling the tips of metal sliding cleanly into his side. The knives were sharpened so perfectly they could cut through whatever person she needed them to. Even a demon in disguise. 

A voice cut through the situation, coming from the end of the bed. “I know where your brother’s stones are!” Oswald’s brow was furrowed, doing what he could to get Tabitha’s attention and to get her to stop harming Ed. Even if he was only spilling human looking blood, it could still be felt by the fiend, and the Ed personality didn’t seem like it had the same pain tolerance as Riddler. 

Tabitha froze, the blade tips remaining in Ed’s skin but she didn’t push them anymore. “You…” She snarled, eyes glaring in Oswald’s direction. “...know where they are?” If she could get them back, she could put him together again, watch over him as he reformed and then could team up with Theo once more. They could put these two in the ground permanently, have their revenge. 

“Oswald, no…!” 

“Down to coordinates one could put in a GPS to dig them back up.” He could drop a ‘hint’ and have her believe both of them were buried. That gave her so little to go on. She’d be digging up Gotham for years and never look in the waters that surrounded the entire city. 

Tabi glared at Oswald, keeping Ed in place beneath her. “And what would make me believe you?”

“Make a deal with me.” 

Ed’s eyes jumped from Oswald to the she-devil and back, seeing how confident the man appeared to be in dealing with her. “Be careful, Oswald…” He didn’t like how this was going, nothing felt right about purposefully making a deal with a devil. 

“No.” Tabby outright refused, always able to rebel against what she didn’t stand behind. Yes, deals made for souls gave power, but she wasn’t a slave to that either. It was a greater weakness to need the deals and to depend on them. She was stronger for being able to overpower many with fewer deals. It made her the best of her hutches. Falling to the deals as an addiction was worse than any vulnerability, she still had her instincts, but she could briefly turn her back on them for her gain. “I refuse. A devil approaches you with a deal, it doesn’t work the other way around.”

 

“Then I suppose you’ll never get your brother back.” 

Tabby’s scowling turned to a vicious smile, Ed getting an awful chill run down his back as his head began to split in pain. _“GET HER. **KILL HER.** SHE IS GOING TO HURT HIM! STOP LAYING THERE LIKE A THOUGHTLESS, SQUIRMING MAGGOT AND DO SOMETHING!”_ Riddler was nearly screaming in Ed’s head, his form not far behind Tabby beside the bed. Ed’s other personality getting possessive with Oswald, hating the Galavan devil clan to this point. They wanted to take Oswald from him, wanted to sway him to their side. Now she threatened his life. _“EITHER DO SOMETHING OR LET ME OUT!”_

Do something. Do something. He couldn’t do too much, except… Well. He was always told in a number of circles that he could be quite taxing on the patience. 

Tabby meant to get off the bed, her eyes now fixed on Oswald when Ed grabbed both of her forearms with hands so clenched they would be a challenge to shake off. His hands were long and could wrap around entirely, making it more difficult to break the hold he had. “Let go!” She demanded, pulling at her arms to get him away. Unfortunately, she was pulling on arms that weren’t struggling back. Her extra strength only hauled him where she was going, Ed allowing himself to be directed but as an added weight to get in the way. 

“Did you know that humans have varying types of devil figures in their culture?”

“What…?” 

“Ed, what are you…?”

“Like the Jersey Devil.” Ed had little to his disposal other than a knack for annoying people of different mindsets with odd facts, riddles, and an inability to take a hint unless directly told. “Who, in 1909, actually effected school attendances when people believed the creature to be active in a local town. The Jersey devil often found in an undeveloped area nearby.”

“Jersey devil… that’s… that’s not even real.” Tabby glared, unsure where he was going with this, now more confused than before. 

“Not in the slightest.” Ed confirmed for her with a grin, being quite cheerful despite the amount of times she’d stabbed him. “It was said to be born, the youngest in a group of thirteen children, out of spite to the birth mother’s husband. Who paid her and the children little attention. The Jersey Devil became so infamous its name was used for a hockey team known quite well to a number of people.”

“What…?” Tabitha’s eyes squinted and brow dropped in disbelief, not sure what to do with the information. “That’s not even how devils work… why are-”

“Apparently, according to legend if it can even be called such, the wife was bitter to her husband’s lack of attention and wished that her thirteenth child would be a devil when she was pregnant with it.”

“Shut up!” Tabby tried to pull her arms away again, dragging Ed feet forward into herself instead. So this was how he wanted to play it? Fine. 

“When she gave birth it was a regular human, but soon it began to change into a horrifying beast with a goat’s head and legs, extended neck, long tail, wide wings, etcetera. An odd tale, don’t you think?” Ed asked her opinion, giving her an expectant face.

Tabitha Galavan returned his shared information with a devious grin, pulling him down to her level with his grip on her arms, using their closeness to ram her forehead into the bridge of his nose. The impact staggered the Incubus, his hands slipping enough that she could forcefully throw her hands down and break the hold, pushing him back several feet before driving her boot into his ribs with every bit of strength she could muster. 

Ed went flying back at the impact, glasses twisted and broken on his face fell to the floor, the demon hitting a wall with the sound of gyprock breaking behind him, wood cracked inside the wall. He hit his head hard on the wall stud, slumping over as he was briefly knocked out.

“Edward!” Oswald took a step forward but was soon caught by Tabitha around the throat, lifted off the ground with her added strength. 

“We could do this the easy way or the fun way. Either you tell me what I need to know, or I gut you here and now.” She dropped the guise on her hands, nails at the ready, each claw tip pressing into Oswald’s stomach over his shirt.

“...I told y… you… he’s… buried…!” Oswald claimed as he choked under her grip, struggling between gurglings to speak. 

“Where, Worm?! I don’t have enough patience for stupidity from the two of you.” She glared, focusing heavily on the human turning a reddish-purple in her grip. 

A cough from behind her caught the she-devil’s attention, turning to see the Incubus standing again, dusting himself off. He picked his glasses off the floor with a frown, tossing them aside. “That was my last pair…” That was annoying. “And that’s **my** human.” Riddler pointed at Oswald in her grip with a scowl. “Leave him be.”

“Why don’t you make me, Incubus?”

“Gladly.” 

Riddler was beyond furious at the moment. He would never admit it aloud but he felt threatened with Oswald in danger. He couldn’t lose the human and there was, in no way, a chance he’d let the devils do harm to him. Or any other demon for that matter. He… may have made the mistake in marking Oswald before. It meant something to their species, even a marking of selfish possession. Now she was ready to harm _his_ human? No. She couldn’t do that. Riddler marched forward, dropping his human guise to tower above Tabitha, the pajama pants he’d borrowed were clinging on for dear life at the shift in form.

Tabby rolled her eyes at the change, setting Oswald on the floor though her hand didn’t leave his throat. “What do you want? A trophy? Good try using your natural form, but you’re not scary.” She’d woken up to scarier things than him.

Riddler grabbed her forcefully, holding her by the arms and digging his claws in as his tail coiled its way around her forearm, applying pressure like a python. Tabby refused to flinch, only grimacing when a sickening snap filled the room, the she-devil’s arm now in several pieces in and out of her skin. The crushed arm made it easy to remove the grasp from Oswald, allowing the human to completely breathe again as he could stagger away from the intruder. Managing to stay upright, the man coughed and wheezed to get his air back, guarding his throat with his hand. 

“Two can play at thi-”

Riddler didn’t bother to hear the end of her sentence, pitching the woman out of the window and into the yard, jumping out after her to handle the situation in a better area. “Maybe you’re as stupid as I thought and didn’t get the idea before, so I’ll say it in nice, small words for your minute brain to understand.” The fiend explained, his hands raised as he spoke, forming little okay signals out of habit with his speech. “I. Don’t. Play. Well. With. Others.” He spoke to her, seeing the devil in her natural form in the grass. 

Her hair was gone, her skin rough and in a shade of dark burgundy, three pairs of small horns across the crown of her head. She was smaller than before, her ram-like legs underneath her and covered in a thin, silken black fur. “Bring it on, Leech.” She stood up on the ground, her tail wiggling back and forth behind her, several trinkets hanging off of the appendage and pierced through from deals she made in the past. Small rings and a blade making the tail as much trouble as the rest of her. Devils did not have collections like Riddler’s species did. Every so often though they took trinkets from around deals they made, interested in body modification to have a small item added to their tails for decoration or for use. 

A devil’s typically arrowhead-style tail that humans drew was not uninspired. The hayday for a Devil’s Deal was during medieval wars, when they would bargain with men for their ability to return home to their families. On the battlefield they would find arrows and break off the tips, adding them by any means necessary to the ends of their tails as an accessory. Every demon species collected something in a way, but each one was different. 

As the demons fought out in the yard, Oswald watched for a moment before he made his way out of the room the old fashioned way, not about to climb his way out of a broken window. That was insane. He put on his robe, hobbling to the nearest phone in a hurry, making a call before grabbing a gun from the closest position he knew of. The man marched outside with shotgun in hand, seeing the two demons tussling and tearing up the lawn in their fight. 

It seemed to be a one-sided altercation. Although Riddler had a size advantage, Tabitha clearly knew what she was doing. She was able to dodge and move around the Incubus with little effort, hitting him with claws, her tail blade, able to jab a horn or two in his side. The fiend got lucky with a grab, throwing Tabby away from himself and watching as she landed on her side only to hop back up. “Is that the best you have, Leech?” Her shattered arm was healing quickly, already able to point it at Riddler with her taunting.

The she-devil yelled when a shotgun shot filled the air, the boom easily heard, damage shredding into the top layer of her chest and right shoulder. Oswald pumped the gun, launching the empty shell from the ejection port, a second ready to go when the first was abandoned. “Maybe I may interject here?” The man interrupted, aiming the gun at her again and hitting nearly the same spot. He was deadly accurate with a gun, it was a favorite among his killing methods when he had the choice. Physically, Oswald was not the most intimidating, but he had more than enough skills to make up for that.

Tabby would normally not be worried, but she could see the growing hole in her shoulder and got worried about the aim the human had. He knew. He should have shot her in the head or something, there was no reason other than her stones that he would aim for that same area twice. “You know where they come from…” The human hiding her brother’s stones for the Incubus was one thing, but he actually knew where they were in order to remove them… This was not something she would have guessed.

Oswald loaded two more shells into his shotgun, clicking it closed as a car skid into the driveway, gunfire heard from the vehicle, all hitting Tabitha in the backs of the shoulders. “Oh, I am very well aware.” He added, raising the gun again as the she-devil weighed her options. 

With the new vehicle in the fray, both demons put on their human guises quickly. Tabitha breaking out into a sprint to leave the area. She had to preserve herself, she couldn’t very well avenge her brother if she was dead. He may have not known when to leave well enough alone, but she could use a strategic retreat. 

A figure stepped out of the car, firing a second gun now at the shadowy devil making her way into the surrounding area, disappearing within moments. “You alright, Boss?” Zsasz kept his pistols out, dropping the empty magazines in his pockets to replace with ones that were fully loaded. Just in case. 

“I’m fine.” Oswald confirmed, looking over to Riddler whos head fell back with a heavy sigh to follow. “Edward, are you okay?”

“Peachy.” 

The short tone and agitation at least meant physically he would be okay, though something was clearly bothering Riddler. Zsasz shook his head at the mess of glass in the yard, patches of grass taken out in chunks, his boss in a robe with a gun in hand and his bump buddy covered in cuts and claw marks. “You two let in a stray, or what?”

“Certainly the ‘or what’ applies here.” Oswald commented, propping the shotgun against his shoulder with the barrel pointed into the sky. “Find out what happened to security. This second Galavan is going to be a recurring threat if we don’t remove her from life as soon as possible.” He knew the secrets of the demon world, but if Zsasz was to be prepared… “Edward, a word.”

The demon glanced over to Oswald, staying put where he’d been left by Tabitha. “You come to me.” 

“Ed, why can’t-”

“I can’t make out anything here.” 

Oswald paused for a brief moment, leaving Zsasz’s company to stand by Riddler’s side and remembering as he approached that the Incubus had lost his glasses in the bedroom. “We should invest in contacts for you.” He suggested upon his approach, limping over to the fiend with care about his bare feet in the glass riddled lawn. 

“I don’t like wearing them often, I prefer glasses.” He’d tried them before, but they weren’t his favorite by a long shot. “What do you want to discuss?” He got right to business, annoyed that his eyes were trying to adjust with the varying levels of light, but anything he looked at still blurred out of focus just enough. 

“I’ll remember that. Whatever your prescription is, tell me when we get back inside and you will have a handful of glasses by the morning.” For a crime lord, resources would have to get up at odd hours to his beck and call. That was the brilliance of having so much money and power at his disposal. With Zsasz nearby it was easier to trade words with the demon in their shared known language, there finally being a reason to speak Hungarian around a regular person. _“He already knows you’re not human, if he’s to be ready for another attack on either of us he’ll need to know what she is.”_

Riddler considered the option, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. _“He can know what she is, but I remain persistent that I stay a mystery.”_

Oswald considered this, nodding in return. “Victor, come inside, we have much to discuss.” He directed, taking Riddler’s hand briefly to set on his shoulder, gun then lowered to his side while aimed at the ground, leading the semi-blind demon back into the manor. 

 

Zsasz took the news of devils being real quite well, the man… seemingly excited that he had the opportunity to kill something from myth. He was especially informed on how to kill a devil, and the best method to keep them from returning to life. This was a whole new challenge level for Zsasz and would make a wonderful story to keep mostly to himself. He had a few buddies he knew would believe him though, ones who encouraged his alien theories. 

“Okay, but… she’s one of those things, and he’s not?” Zsasz pointed at Riddler curiously, looking over the other being with a suspicious eye. “So I was right, he is an alien.”

“He’s…” Oswald huffed, tired of going over the point at this juncture. “He’s not an alien.”

“But you won’t tell me what he is.” 

“No.”

“So… not knowing any better and not being corrected… he’s an alien. As far as I know.”

“Why are you **so** obsessed with aliens?!”

“Why are you not?” 

“Enough!” Riddler finally had enough of the two bickering on what he was or wasn’t, getting a headache from his eyes being unable to focus for so long. “I’m not an alien. I’m a demon, that’s all you ever need to know.” 

“A demon?”

“Yes.”

Zsasz processed the answer for a moment, leaning back in his chair before shaking his head. “I guess that’s alright. It’s no alien, I guess you’d be like… an alien of hell, so…”

Riddler’s expression dropped, staring into his brow before his eyes rolled in annoyance. “If it makes you feel better, fine. Yes, I’m a hell alien. Can we move on?” His patience was getting tried, the fiend’s temper on the rise for several reasons at this point.

“Victor, I need you to stay until the next security detail gets here and then they will be here until morning. I can’t imagine that she-devil will try again tonight with how she ran.” Oswald put his elbows on his desk, sitting in his chair behind it, holding one hand in the other. 

“Can do. Ruins my beauty sleep, but I guess when demons start fighting there’s not a lot of choice.” He agreed with a long breath leaving him, getting up from his chair, going over all his information with a hand brushing over the top of his smooth head.

“What did we tell you, Victor?” Oswald questioned, knowing Zsasz had a habit of glossing over some details.

“Something about devils are sneaky, don’t look her in the eyes, destroy her shoulders, steal a rock. Something.” He gave a summary, already halfway out the door and deciding that his job for the moment was finished. 

As the door closed, Oswald shook his head, forehead resting forward against his hands. “If he wasn’t so impossible to kill, I’d be worried.” If anyone was going to live through even a nuclear explosion, it would be Zsasz. Somehow.

“Oswald.”

“Yes, Riddler?”

There was a long pause before a hand found Oswald’s shoulder, the human turned around with his chair to be delivered at an angle that Riddler could get at him. The demon wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, nearly cheek-to-cheek with him as his body burned hotly. Aggravated pops sounding in his chest with the pile of emotions he was attempting to shove out of the way. “Thank you, for the assistance.”

Oswald was frozen for a moment before he hugged back, arms looping around the Incubus’ middle with hands pressed flat into his back, not having expected the physical gesture from the demon. “What’s wrong? You don’t seem very pleased.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That is largely a lie. I can hear it from here, Ed had explained it to me previously. You are clearly popping, you’re upset.” Oswald called him out on the brushing off, still hugging the fiend in return. How to handle this without delving into emotional catch ups that Riddler never seemed to find pleasing. “I don’t believe I understand, someone brilliant would need to explain it for me.” He could play up Riddler’s thought and intelligence, it might do him good. 

He could feel as Riddler tensed, the demon’s fingers gripping his robe and balling his hands into fists around the collar. “One, you are being targeted. Two, someone’s still encroaching on **my** territory. Three, you were attacked. Four, I couldn’t get out fast enough. Five, I can’t see. Six, that fight was pathetic. And finally, the seventh issue, I want to get my hands all over you right now and I’ve been trying to not make a move like this.” 

Oswald listened patiently to the list Riddler formed, noting how in order it was to the events. The final had his eyes snapping forward over the demon’s shoulder, breathing shifting to leave his mouth in an almost nervous laugh. He supposed this played to something Riddler had mentioned before, how heated moments could inspire a demon to seek sexual resolution to a problem. “Is… Is that so?” Riddler felt what he considered his to be threatened, the she-devil was gone but not dealt with. It made sense for him to have residual possession issues.

“Yes.”

“Then… allow me to call for your glasses, and afterwards we can explore what those hands want here.” Oswald couldn’t say his heart wasn’t beginning to beat wildly in his chest, thoughts creeping into his head again to fill him with worry. The man would rather it be in the office where there was no broken window for anyone arriving at the manor to hear anything. ...Right. he had to call to get the window and the wall fixed as well.

In the morning he would. That was apart of tomorrow’s plans.

The Incubus leaned back, taking in Oswald’s face curiously. “And you’re okay with that? You sound unsure.” It didn’t take a psychologist to see how Oswald reacted, how the man began to avoid eye contact and how his skin tinted to a rosy pink from one cheekbone to the other, even staining the skin across his nose at the same level. “You look hesitant.” The demon added, brows furrowed in thought.

“I…” Oswald’s mouth hung open as he thought, trying to get something off of his mind, though the words seemed to be getting stuck somewhere. No. It was fine. He could operate without saying anything. How difficult could it be?

“What is it, Oswald?”

The man finally made eye contact with the other, putting on a long smile and bobbing his shoulders. “Nothing! It’s nothing, I was just thinking we should phone the police for the break in and maybe they can detain that she-devil or at least make her life a little more difficult. You were saying?” He deflected, putting his true thought aside to avoid the admittance. That covered him well enough.

Riddler’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, nodding along at the cover. “Yes, maybe so, but in the morning.” He didn’t like being lied to. There was something he wasn’t trusted with and he was going to get to the bottom of it. No matter how he had to get it from the other. “Make your call, then we play.”

Though it was nearly four in the morning, Oswald turned himself towards his desk to make two calls and had glasses on order for the later morning, getting a small stack of them in several styles simply because he could though kept to Ed and Riddler’s browline frames. If they could agree on a type it was likely best he didn’t change it. 

As he hung up the phone a knot caught in his throat as hands gently gripped his shoulders, massaging around his neck carefully with warm hands that felt like they’d been toasted by an oven. They weren’t too hot, but just warm enough. Even as they slipped under the collar of his robe and explored down his chest, a body leaning against his back and hot breath ghosting behind one of his ears to cause a shiver down his spine. 

“Do you know what I want to do to you, Oz?” Riddler’s words were hidden in a breathy delivery, the Incubus whispering behind the shell of Oswald’s ear.

“I… I do not.”

“Do you want to know?”

“...Yes.”

“I contain thought, but I do not make it. I have a crown, but I am not royalty. I am foremost, but do not always go first. What am I?”

Oswald’s lower lip was pinched between his teeth, his jaw pushing forward as he thought despite the wandering hands that brushed their way slowly down his torso. “It’s…” A shaky breath left his lungs, the man attempting to compose himself but the teeth that took the shell of his ear was a difficult distraction. How they tugged, nibbled, played with skin that normally received no attention other than a frequent cleaning. “It’s… uhhh…”

“Think, Oz. What could it be?” Hands sunk to the man’s hips, spread fingers causing thumbs to glide dangerously close to his crotch, continuing a journey half way down his thighs before pausing. “Tick tock, Oswald.”

As the hands retreated back towards his lap, heated words teasing the edge of his ear, the answer occurred to Oswald. “Head.”

“That’s right.” Riddler confirmed, hands left limbs to appear on Oswald’s shoulders, spinning the man around to face him again. The demon grabbed a handful of the borrowed pajama pants just below the hips, hiking them up to create more room for him to crouch down in front of the human, using his knees to push Oswald’s legs apart. “Are you sure there’s nothing I should know?” He questioned with hands resting on Oswald’s inner thighs under his robe, petting the skin thoughtfully.

“N… No! No there’s not.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting then.” The Incubus took note of the man’s boxers from his angle, the robe having spread open in the middle from the demon’s guided movements.

Oswald felt like he was being interrogated, swallowing thickly with his hands clutching the arms of the chair. “Wh-What is?” Though this was certainly not the worst questioning he’d ever had. 

“Are you not interested? Do you not find me attractive?” Riddler questioned with a serious tone, ready to feel somewhat offended if any of his questions were answered with confirming words. Even without charm, he was still a good looking man. They would’ve had to starve much longer as a child to effect their looks so badly that they’d be repulsive.

Something was wrong… Oswald began to fret. What was he not doing right? “I am! And… I do.” He answered positively to both questions, the heat in his face making him wonder if his skin looked as painted with color as it felt.

“Then why, Oswald, am I noting an incredible lack of erection?” The Incubus asked bluntly, hand sneaking over the boxers to palm a rather flaccid cock. “It seems there would only be a lack of reaction if you were keeping something from me. Something that would prevent you from experiencing this fully or from beginning to at all. Do not play me like a fool, Oswald, I _know_ how people are in the mood. And you’re not in it. Why?”

Oswald’s knuckles were turning white from his grip on the armrests, completely sure a bead of sweat was rolling down his temple now. Jaw slack and eyes searching Riddler’s face, he seemed scared.

“This is your first time, isn’t it, Oswald?”

“I... don’t know what you’re talking about.” Oswald denied, hoping his stubbornness could cover his fear.

“You _may_ want this, but your panic is keeping you from-” Riddler gave the dick he still cupped an encouraging palming, watching Oswald very carefully as the man instantly straightened in his chair, breath catching in his throat. “-getting it up.” All that reaction and barely a twitch in response. “You didn’t tell me you were fearful. You were going to let me continue. Why?”

Oswald stayed quiet, refusing to answer still.

“WHY, Oswald?!” Riddler’s patience was wearing thin, clutching at the genitals in his hand. Just enough to give a gentle squeeze, not enough to hurt. Yet.

“I… I didn’t know… if I would react…!” Oswald answered at last, his fear manifesting in a labored breath. The mix of physical stimulant with natural panic putting his body in a confused state of limbo, wanting to get his circulation going, yet unable to maintain the correct positive excitement.

“Elaborate, what do you mean?” Riddler’s hand relaxed more, the demon staying in position in front of Oswald, hands moving to rest one on either of the man’s knees.

Oswald’s head lolled to the side, his eyes moving to the wall instead of the demon beneath him. “I don’t feel a lot of attraction to many people. Perhaps a few, but the number is incredibly small.” He started, closing his blue eyes as he thought of where to lead this conversation. “Even fewer are my sexual attractions. And I admit, I may have been… apprehensive of a situation like this occurring and possibly having no sexual reaction to you. Where I do not want that to be the case, as I find you very handsome and capable, but I didn’t know how this may turn out.” He managed to work his attention back on Riddler, staring the Incubus dead in the eyes. “I find you, and Ed for that matter, very attractive with your own appealing qualities. I was… simply afraid I may not react after all and would ruin a rare opportunity.”

Riddler’s eyes stayed locked on Oswald even after the explanation, not sure what to say. This was an Ed talk, but his other half always requested to stay locked out from his frisky endeavors. Crud. How to handle this… 

Oswald could see Riddler thinking and it only scared him more, anticipating what it was the demon could say. “Please… say something…” He requested, doing what he could to quell the fearful emotions that bubbled into his throat and wavered his words.

Logic. Logic was always the best way to go. He couldn’t pretend to emote, he’d appear disgenuine. Oswald was clearly displaying negative emotions at the idea of being rejected for his state. Verbal comfort in the form of logic was his best bet. He could manage that. “This talk isn’t my forte, so bare with me if it seems I’m not going in a direction you’re happy with.” He excused himself for first. “Depending on the level of your sexual attraction and why you feel we are sexually attractive to you could prove you to be asexual to some degree, meaning a lack of sexual attraction. Perhaps you’re experiencing a desire because you know it is our way of life. Or you could be demisexual, meaning there is no sexual attraction for you unless you’ve developed an emotional connection first. Do either of these seem possible enough that you could identify with?”

“I suppose.” 

“Tell me honestly, Oswald, would you sleep with me? Either me penetrating you or vice versa, or any sexual interaction for that matter. Is that a possibility in your mind without regret or force? Is it something you’d be interested in, truly, on a regular basis? I will not sleep with you if that is something you adamantly reject. Though, I am not leaving you even if your answer is no. You offer far more than copulation, which is more than most humans can offer.” The fiend pondered a mental exercise, thinking it the safest way to begin. “Imagine it. Picture us together in your mind. Is it comfortable for you to fantasize about us?”

Oswald hadn’t entirely expected such a comfortably accepting set of thoughts from Riddler, this was normally something the demon seemed to avoid with a passion. He thought over the questions he was asked, closing his eyes again to picture the suggestion in his mind. Oswald could picture himself above… an Ed, he wasn’t entirely sure which one in the thought process, but he’d leave that open for the moment. Nudity, kissing, touching, hands, rocking, sweating, moaning… 

Riddler waited with some patience, rather proud of his brilliant way of handling Oswald’s worry. Who needed Ed at all? He solved that without _him_. Hah! What dead weight. The demon paused in his deprications of Ed when a breathy noise sounded above him. His brows furrowed until he realized Oswald was mid-fantasy and seemed to be enjoying the experience. Now that was fascinating. And something he could work with. “Talk to me Oswald, what are we doing? Don’t summarize, describe it. Whatever you’re imagining.” He had an idea of how to continue the exercise if it was acceptable.

A voice broke into the imagined place in Oswald’s head, having his fantasy self looking down at the Ed who spoke like Riddler. So it was him. “You’re under me. We’re naked, in my bed. You ask me if I want more.” 

“Do you want more, Oz?” He copied the spoken statement, living up to his end of the fantasy, curious to see where a little guided roleplay could go. 

Oswald kept his eyes shut, feeling more relaxed in his headspace at the moment. “...I do.” To the scenario, sex had already occurred and just concluded. In the made up space there was nothing to worry about because it had already happened. 

“What do you need from me? I’d do anything for you.” 

“I need you. I need to know I’m right, again. The first wasn’t a mistake.”

“What are you trying to prove, Oz?” Riddler was intrigued learning of an already initial scenario having taken place, Oswald’s mind ready to create a second.

“I’m trying to prove that I can be with you in every way possible. That I’m not imagining feelings.” Which, he technically was, but that was beside the point. “I’m proving to myself that they are real, that I’m not forcing them.” 

“And how do we prove that?”

“I let you play with me.”

Now they were getting somewhere he could work with. “What do I do to you, Oz? This is your fantasy, it’s under your control. You say what happens, nothing is without your say so.” 

Oswald let go of a breath, adjusting in his seat, trying to steady his racing heart. “You turn us over, put yourself above me.” As the man described it Riddler fixed their positions, picking Oswald up from the chair to lay him on the desk lengthways. He crawled onto the end by the man’s legs, waiting for instruction. “You’re covered in markings… bruises, teeth marks, scratches…” 

The demon sighed at the thought. As much as he’d accept the man no matter his preference… he could feel some relief that Oswald was kinky to a degree, even if it was low-damage rough play. He’d take it. 

The man began to grin as he started paces through the second situation. “We kiss, I bite your lip, you scold me, I hit you.” The demon was happy to oblige that, supporting himself over Oswald to lean his head down, taking a moment to find the right positioning with his blurred vision before kissing the fantasy mediator. Lip locked for a moment, Oswald repeats what he claimed he’d do and latched onto Riddler’s lower lip with his teeth, letting go when demon spoke as instructed. 

“Do you think that will go unpunished?”

A hand rose quickly, catching Riddler more in the temple and cheekbone than the cheek, but the sting was just as pleasant. “I hope there is punishment.” Oswald’s tone challenged the fiend, blind hands grabbing his face for another kiss. 

Riddler played into the human’s scenario, fulfilling every statement and description that Oswald could give him. The robe opened like a curtain and shirt lost so he could kiss where he was told he did, bite where Oswald imagined he did, drag his nails over the man’s ribs like described to him. And he could only be so glad that the man didn’t need a fluffy, cuddling handjob. He’d do it, but this was much _so_ more enjoyable.

Oswald’s descriptions got more vague the further Riddler got, the demon noting the human didn’t know what to expect of the experience once the foreplay finished to open to the actual event. Still, Riddler waited for a description before he’d continue. It was his permission. The human had a chance to explore rare sexual interest, and as a courting Incubus, it was in his DNA to see Oswald get every sexual pleasure and question fulfilled. 

When Oswald could imagine it, he pulled the man’s boxers down, much more satisfied this time when a semi-erect penis was exposed to him. This was clearly a work in progress, but it was better than how they started. Oswald was actually getting stimulation from the combined efforts, so something was there. It wasn’t _all_ in his head. Which, when one couldn’t entirely separate what was reality with what was in the mind… He could understand that mentality and the difficulty.

At 4:14am Riddler had finally gotten Oswald to a point in the fantasy where he could fulfill his own possessive desires, as well as help the man through his uncertainties. He had to pin the human’s hips in place during the process, finding that Oswald was largely a squirmer when he was getting blown. And he yelled. He moaned like he was trying to get the other side of the manor to hear him. His voice carried like someone had put it on a horse-drawn cart and sent it off to market. 

Being new to the whole experience, Oswald didn’t know what to do with his hands. They were up, they were down, they pawed at the desk, they tried to grab at Riddler’s hand on his hip, anything. If it was around them, Oswald had probably grabbed it, hit it, or moved it. The Incubus got to an annoyed point of taking the man’s hands to place on his skull, letting him paw and grab at his hair. By 4:19 the activity was finished. A panting, tired, mostly naked except for the boxers around his ankle and the robe completely open underneath him, Oswald Cobblepot lay on the desk, hands leaving Riddler’s head to fall by his own face on the wooden surface under him.

The man stared up at the ceiling, his face and neck covered in a deep, dusted rose blush. His eyes wide and dazed as he took in what happened, knowing at some point he’d opened his eyes and stopped living in the fantasy to experience the reality. Oswald wasn’t wrong in wanting to try, and Riddler was true to his word. Whatever was said, happened. “You are… in-incredibly… attentive…” 

Riddler had a long grin, sitting on the end of the desk with his legs crossed at the knee, using a knuckle to wipe at the corner of his mouth. He had to preen, making sure he was in order afterwards. “I’m fantastic at many things, and this was something I was born to do. Naturally, I’m incredible. I’d be a lowbrow devil if I weren’t a generous lover.” He stated as he ran a hand over his hair, pushing it back in place. The cleaning up also helped distract himself from baser needs that his Incubus side told him he should naturally follow. They were more… emotionally driven, and that wasn’t something he was prepared to conform to yet. 

As much as he felt it. 

Oswald still lay exposed on the desk, the man never developing a delinquency from his lack of care for those he trusted to be around his naked state. However, the demon’s exposed true form genitals were still terrifying and he would work on his discomfort with that. “...Thank you for… your understanding.” He began to collect his breath, body discovering balance again in his internal bath of oxytocin. 

“I’ve been having sex for 163 years, Oswald. Whatever is odd about your preferences, I’ve likely heard or dealt with before. Do not hide them from me.” Riddler stated, standing up from the desk to be at Oswald’s side with a smirk. “However, there are some actions of yours I’d appreciate not becoming habit. We’ll work on that, if you’re willing to pursue further _play time_ with me.” He stated, unable to help the fact that if Oswald’s arms didn’t stay still next time, Ed wouldn’t be the only one who got tied down frequently.

“I would love to…” Oswald replied with a grin, so relieved to find that his internalized panic had been for nothing.

Maybe hiding sexual worries from a literal sexual demon was slightly foolish.


	14. A Cut Throat Business

When first able, Oswald got redressed in his shirt and boxers, robe covering him again before he limped his way out of the room with Riddler in tow. The man lead the way to a guest bedroom on the second floor of the manor, staying there for the night with the master bedroom in disrepair. As much as he wanted _his_ room, the window was broken and there was Ed’s false blood all over the bed. So perhaps the next night.

Riddler was not as willing to small spoon in the bed with Oswald, ready to share, but made a deal with the human that worked well enough for them both. The Incubus fell asleep on his stomach, one arm pinned between himself and Oswald, the other under his head. Meanwhile, Oswald had his forehead pressed into Riddler’s shoulder, an arm across the fiend’s back and his sore limb propped over top the demon’s closer leg. 

Still pinned enough for movement tracking, but no little spoon. 

 

Naturally, the creature that didn’t actually need sleep woke first. He watched Oswald sleep next to him, the man having moved somewhat since last night. He had wiggled down in his sleep, their ankles now crossed, and Riddler only able to see the top of Oswald’s wild, black hair.

The demon could still feel a baser instinct pulling in the back of his mind. A little desire that he tried to push away and ignore. He wasn’t comfortable with that level yet and he didn’t want to admit his side of feelings had sunk so far without his knowledge.

He still wanted to cocoon him though.  
...Crud.

Riddler scowled heavily, brows dropped as he closed his eyes to leave the blurred world in the dark. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want it. He wouldn’t play into pointless, natural instincts. He’d never done it before, any past connections he managed to avoid fulfilling the need with. He only had to ignore it. Simple.

Incubi and Succubae had a particularly intimate habit when they found partners they truly liked, ones they meshed with well in personality and sexual exploration. Real mate material you could take home to meet mother Succubus.

What they called a _‘cocoon’_ was always made from true satisfaction in Riddler’s species type. Especially after intimate bonding, an Incubus or a Succubus would take their partner(s) in extremely close to their demon form. They would use their tail to hug them both as snugly as possible against each other, trapping them together, before their wings would form the ‘cocoon’. Around both parties the wings would stretch out and envelope them. It formed a barrier from anything else, leaving them alone inside. Once the cocoon was formed, the pair would be free to begin holding, bonding, marking, kissing, and grooming. Small, affectionate gestures that showed care and possession. 

Riddler ignored this baser desire. It was beneath him to be swayed by trivial, emotional things. That was Ed’s influence. That was his thing. If Ed so much as saw Oswald completely naked, he’d probably cocoon the human right there and then. The demon squirmed uncomfortably, burying his face in the pillow. He didn’t need to breathe as often, he could spend over a day trying to suffocate himself to ignore what was happening in his gut. He didn’t like it. It made him feel sick… it made him feel weak. 

Why’d he have to go and do a stupid thing like care? 

Perhaps because Oswald seemed to care so much. Oswald, when interested in something, poured his entire heart into it. His hard work and his determination. His fiery passion and his pleased grin when he got what he wanted. It was attractive for him to be so cut throat, to demolish through competition, to take his mortal self out on a lawn at nearly four in the morning with a shotgun to damage an enemy that wasn’t his fight… Riddler grumbled into the pillow. He took a careful glance down his shoulder at the mess of hair again, scoffing in distaste when his chest crackled happily with the thoughts of Oswald and his close proximity. 

No… noo… nooo.

_“Yes, yes, yeeees.”_

Riddler buried his face in the pillow again, refusing to look at Ed in this state. “Go away. Let me suffocate myself in peace.” Although spoken into the pillow, Ed could hear him clear as day.

The better half of the two rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his sweater covered chest, the projection dressed casually for the day with his sweater covering the dress shirt and tie he wore underneath. _“Please. If you were ever going to kill yourself there’d be spotlights, an announcer of your own pre-recorded voice, a world-wide broadcast, and probably a full movie set. Nearly alone in a dim bedroom? Doubtful.”_

If he weren’t worried about the brain damage, maybe he could suffocate just enough to get rid of Ed. If it did nothing though, he could get stuck with an even more stupid version of what he had… There was no winning that morning. “I… do not have to answer to you for everything. Nor explain myself. In fact, I refuse to.” He commented simply, hating how he liked when Oswald squirmed against his side, his chest still crackling.

_“The fact that you like him so much is surprising.”_ Ed began, watching the two as he sat himself on the edge of the bed that should have been Oswald’s, had he not gotten onto Riddler’s side as best he could, body in the middle of the mattress. _“And I don’t mean that to tease, just as a fact and statement. You have interest now and then, but you and caring… the two of you aren’t well acquainted.”_ Seeing Riddler as any sort of attached to someone was incredibly rare. He had his favorites, yes, but genuine care…? Not so much.

The word care reminded him, as well as allowing him to shift focus on the topic. “I locked you out last night, but learned something interesting.”

_“I noticed. Have fun?”_

“Once things began.” Riddler replied shortly, looking up from the pillow only to stare into the headboard. It was more like taking in the color, he couldn’t at all see the details of the wood grain. “He’s somewhere around Ace and Demi. He’s attracted to _us_. He specifically mentioned us both. He seems to be sexually curious with us, but he has anxiety-like worries about if they are real.” Riddler described, as much as Ed requested being left out of certain situations he knew he needed to share the details he discovered.

_“And yet you both had coital relations?”_

“No. I let him verbally lead a blowjob, nothing more.” 

_“A simple ‘no’ would have done the trick.”_ He still didn’t need to know _those_ sorts of details from the other. Ed couldn’t ignore the information shared with him though, it could turn a good situation terrible if he didn’t know what he was looking for. _“Thank you.”_

“It’s not for you. It’s for him… Last thing either of us needs is sending him into a panic from lack of knowledge. It would be moronic of either of us to keep something like that from the other, it only hurts him.” 

_“I don’t know how I feel about you wearing ‘Care’. It’s not your usual style, but you wear it well.”_

Riddler’s eyes rolled back with Ed’s words, stuffing his face into the pillow once more. “Of course I wear it well. I wear everything well because I make it look presentable. Even your hand-me-down style I make look good. Which is a miracle in itself.” Those casual sweaters and khakis did nothing for his own sense of fashion and style, hating most of what Ed owned. 

None of it was nearly lavish enough. 

_“Just don’t hurt him for your own sake.”_ Ed mentioned from his place on the bed, careful about how to approach Riddler’s apparent fond attachment. 

Riddler’s eyes bounced towards his brow, turning his head to catch Ed but the projection was already gone, leaving him alone with the human still resting both against and slightly on him. While there were no true promises he could make, he had no intention of hurting the human. If anything were to happen… He’d try to keep it from going so far at least. 

_Try_ being the key word.

The demon stayed in position with his eyes closed for the time being, letting Oswald catch his rest for the morning. He stayed quiet and still, processing several things in his mind when a knock on the door stirred his attention, the human against his arm adjusting at the noise. Riddler’s head picked up cautiously as the door opened, a quiet _“Hey Boss?”_ coming from the door before a familiar bald head peeked in. 

“Oh, it’s you.” 

Zsasz grinned, slipping into the room and shut the door behind himself, box in hand. He strolled into the room like he was invited, seeing Oswald still sleeping on the bed. “Least someone can get him to relax for three seconds.” He spoke, walking over to Riddler’s side of the bed with light feet that could hardly be heard, even for dress shoes on a hardwood floor. The demon had to admit, it was impressive. “Got these from some old guy this morning, said that the Boss ordered a ton of them last night. You’re really the only one around here that wears glasses, so, figured they were for you.” To be frank, Edward was the only one who wore glasses that Oswald would really care to get an overabundance for, that was more accurate wording. 

“It’s about time.” Riddler was looking forward to being able to see clearly again, tired of how much of a headache he got when they were gone.

_“Gee, wonder how that feels? One headache, you poor thing.”_

Riddler ignored the snide comment from his other half, encouraging Zsasz to open the box as he stayed still for Oswald’s comfort, seeing the pile of smaller boxes completely filling the shipping box they were in. Zsasz blinked at the stacking of them, having expected larger boxes and possibly fewer. “You only got two eyes, how many of these do you need?”

“You’d be surprised.” Riddler answered, having broken his glasses more times now in knowing Oswald than he or Ed had in the last ten years. He’d had the same style of frames since browline glasses debuted in 1947. He fell in love with them instantly and needed to get them, Ed became fond of them quite quickly and the pair had one more thing they could agree on. Back then for men’s frames styles were fairly basic, there wasn’t a large amount of options and both were fine with a black frame they could use with anything. “By the general shape of the box it seems like a collection.”

Zsasz, ever the nosy cat, set the box down on the nightstand, opening one of the smaller packages to check out the glasses kept inside, tossing the garbage aside that stood as protective wrapping. “Ooh, these are nice.” And like any person would, opened the arms to put them on his face, eyes crossing slightly to try and make sense of the prescription lenses in front of him. “Wow, you are… blind.” The hitman, having above average sight had to take the glasses off quickly, his eyes already straining to make sense of the new focus they were forced to adjust to. 

“Mhmm, thank you for pointing that out, I hadn’t noticed.” Riddler’s comment got a little snarky, not needing to be told how poor his vision was, he was very well aware. It’s how his eyes worked in the mid-realm, general awful vision. When he was in his home plane one day, he should be able to see without anything on his face. Until then, he’d only know from what others had told him.

“You’d think as a demon you’d have like… super vision or something.” Zsasz stated, not caring about the sarcasm as he peeked through the lenses again to see the life in a demon’s eyes.

Riddler shrugged his free shoulder, having no say on that. “It’s your realm. Whatever it is about your light sources and atmosphere, it makes it difficult to see.” He vaguely described, not about to go into details of his species with Zsasz. 

“Huh, weird.” Zsasz put the glasses back, sorting through the boxes again to find a pair that looked enough like the ones he’d seen Ed in several times over now. “These’ll probably work.” He mentioned as he fumbled with the box. Inside the box was a case, within the case there was a thin, foam wrapped bundle, inside the bundle was a plastic bag, and inside that were the actual frames. “Okay. Blind people are ordering something that comes locked up like a bank vault. How are you actually supposed to get into these?” It took him time, but he got the second pair of glasses out, opening the arms to hand to the demon. The fact this had to be done with every pair seemed annoying. He thought the first set of glasses were just a lucky box he got that was full of crap.

“Well, I would think normally people order the glasses _before_ they break their last pair. Using their current glasses, they get into new ones. That’s just an educated guess though.” Riddler pointed out, needing a couple attempts to figure out where the black frames were against Zsasz’s black outfit. The man didn’t seem to know what a color was. The Incubus figured out the positioning, using his arm that was once a pillow to set the glasses on his face, feeling a sense of relief when everything became clear once more. 

He could actually tell the depth on things and see details. Finally… This had been too long already. 

Riddler closed his eyes, letting go of a breath when his vision could stop straining to make out what was happening. “You were helpful, I appreciate it.” He showed some gratitude to Zsasz. As much as the human could pry into business, he supposed it was somewhat good that he did. It likely saved his and Ed’s life, he could see now much earlier he would’ve gone to the beyond without the man’s assistance. 

“Just my job.” Zsasz brushed off with a shrug, walking away from the box and the bed, heading for the door. “Also, dunno what this’ll count for, but… I guess if you guys want to keep this _thing_ you’re doing a secret, maybe next time get him a gag.” The hitman pointed at his boss, shoulders rising with his non-existent brows, upper lip pushing down with his suggestion to the demon. “When he yells, we all hear it. Kinda been trained to run to him when he does because something’s wrong and he’s going to want us after something. So unless you want five guys knocking on your door when you’re getting down, probably try to keep him more quiet. I’ll interrupt a lot of things, that’s not one of them. Out of courtesy.” 

Even on hits, Zsasz had accidentally walked into an apartment or several where one or both of his marks were getting it on, having some kind of sexual experience. Normally he’d camp out on a couch or chair and wait, sometimes picking up a nearby book or magazine to pass the time. The noise didn’t bother him and he wasn’t shy, he didn’t care if he was even sat in the same room in sight of a couple, they could do their thing. He just had a job to do and he would be sure it got done. 

Riddler smirked at the advice, nodding along to what he was told. “I will keep that in mind. Was it only you around last night when it happened?”

“Yeah, the other guys weren’t in for the shift change yet.” Zsasz answered, opening the door to leave the bedroom. “Whenever he’s up, tell him I found the bodies of first shift. Didn’t touch ‘em yet, just found ‘em.” He mentioned.

“I’ll be sure to inform him.” He wasn’t certain if Oswald seriously wanted to phone the police, or if that was only his ploy of the last night to use as a distraction, but they’d see where it went. 

Zsasz left the two alone, going back to his duties though he looked forward to a nap later on once the bedroom repairs were done. He had to be sure that was handled well first and that no one was sneaking in an undercover team to put some kind of recorder or bomb in Oswald’s wall or rigging the window incorrectly for future, easier break ins. 

Riddler relaxed again on the bed, glad for the glasses he could use to finally see what was going on around him clearly. Zsasz’s distraction helped take his mind off of Oswald’s endearing actions, his body quiet as he began to get restless. Ed could sit around a partner for hours, but he couldn’t. He had to do something to keep his head busy.

The demon began to move, slipping his arm from between them and paused when he recalled what leg was on him. Crud. Well, better to simply wake him then. 

Riddler used his now free arm to wiggle Oswald awake gently, trying not to give him a heart attack awake. Once per 24 hours was enough. Oswald made a rejecting groaning, his head missing the arm that had been there and instead was pushed into the fiend’s ribs, nose fitting right between two of the guised bones in his ribcage. Mhmm… drat, he was adorable. The demon tried to get a little frustrated with it, but his chest disagreed, warming up with a small crackling in reply. “No. You stop that immediately. I didn’t tell you to do that.” He rejected the feeling, but it was still there, his body responding to it the only way it knew how.

If the human could do something completely irritating or disgusting, that’d be great.

“Oswald, get up. I need to move.” Riddler gently shook the man again, this time getting more of a waking groan. The face pushed into his warm side, the arm around his back and the leg over his own squeezing as the man registered his waking. Oswald took in and let go of a long sigh, head pulling back to observe the room. 

“W… wha’…?” 

Riddler growled in his throat while his chest crackled in delight, doing his best to maintain his emotional reaction to a comfortable level. Oswald’s waking out of sleep face looked like he wanted to sneeze, but it wasn’t coming yet. His brows were pushed up, head reclined back, and mouth parted open while his eyes were unfocused. “I need you to wake up so I can move.” He informed the other, hoping he could also get Oswald out of his line of sight.

“Oh… alright.” Oswald’s answers were simple, the human carefully withdrawing himself off of Riddler in order to give the demon space to move. “...Your glasses are in.” He commented in a groggy voice, able to make out the dark lines on the demon’s face. “Do you see well now?”

He cared. Curses. 

“Yes. I see very well now, thank you for getting these. And the too many others.” Riddler commented, glancing over to the box again.

Oswald stretched, the man only going so far with his bad leg still hinged outwards as he woke. “I ordered every style he could find. There’s colors in there, thought it would appeal more to your extravagant side.” His language came back to him quickly, it not taking the man very long to become lucid. 

Riddler’s curiosity got the better of him when he sat up on the bed, moving the box of boxes of glasses onto his legs in order to dig into the selections. Now that he had a pair on, he could actually see the options. Most of the top layer were selections of blacks in both regular and matte. With those moved between his calves he could see the second layer. Metal finishes in silvers, golds, coppers, gunmetals, nickles. Wood frames in light to dark woods and finishes. After that, colors in different selections. Blues from sky to navy, reds from pink to maroon, greens from lime to emerald, and browns from sand to chocolate. The last layer held odd patterns, florals, tortoise shells, transparents, metallic colors, and what almost looked to be glittered options. One in green, the other in purple.

He was going to need some kind of shelving unit to display them all, have all unique colors or styles displayed with the spares in storage. Riddler’s eyes bounced over the piles of boxes between his legs to the last layer of organized glasses in the box in his lap. This was a lot and it was something he’d love to toy with. 

The demon began to sort them back exactly as they were, putting them into their layers in the delivery box. “I’m going to need to expand my wardrobe.”

“Speaking of which.” Oswald mentioned, pushing himself into a sitting position, running a hand over his flat hair. “In light of your last suit also being ruined at fault of this business I’ve taken you into, I’m sending you to a tailor at your earliest convenience. Get whatever you like, restock your closet.” He allowed, rubbing his hands against his eyes to get the sleep out of them. 

“Whatever I want?”

“You’re a fashionable dresser, I don’t believe I need to put any restrictions on you. You of all people should be able to choose a number of good looking suits for yourself, shouldn’t you?” Oswald questioned, not believing there was any reason to monitor the demon. He’d seen Riddler’s choice of style a number of times by then. He had an idea of what he was getting into. “I won’t have you buying off a rack, like you could find a balance for your frame in a basic suit. You will get the best Gotham has to offer and I will see to it.” 

Freedom _and_ selection? How could he possibly reject that? Suit shopping was much like costume shopping. The options, selections, the fit, and the occasions… it got him excited.

“I can go whenever you don’t immediately need me.” He spoke, the fiend ready to go as soon as he was able. 

Oswald considered it, knowing that the filing and computer part acquisition for employee information had been in Ed’s idea stock, it was likely best not to cross the two for jobs. Ed was taking into consideration that not everyone had his brain capacity, Riddler might not be so kind to the other simpler humans of the manor and reorganize everything in a way that was efficient for a genius mind. The only real job he’d given to Riddler so far was to protect him from Theo, and with the devil dead… that job was covered. “I’ll call this morning after breakfast then and have you in by early afternoon.” He decided, now realizing he had to prioritize some jobs based on which version of the demon he had around him. Sure. He could do that.

Some things would simply have to cross over and they would need to deal with that.

“Also,” The demon began, looking to Oswald from his spot beside him on the bed. “Victor wandered in earlier to give me the delivery. He said that he found the bodies of the first security staff, but hadn’t touched them yet.”

“Excellent. Perhaps we can get that she-devil on a murder charge or two if she left anything behind.” Oswald grinned, thinking they could get the GCPD in the other Galavan’s way and give themselves more time to deal with her. “I’ll call the police, have them over here shortly. Your clothes for the day should be arriving soon as well, if it is as early as it seems it is.”

“My clothes?”

“I made two calls last night, Riddler. One was for someone to gently break into your apartment to get clothing for you. You have nothing here, good suits take time, and you clearly can’t wear anything I own.” The stretchy pajama pants were doing what they could, but they couldn’t resize themselves magically. “So someone will likely be arriving soon with a bag full of many things for you to choose from, from your own closet. Or Ed’s closet. Either way, whatever each of you has chosen that may be among the things.” 

Riddler’s fingers slid behind his new glasses, pushing them up as he rubbed his eyes. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Oswald patted the demon’s shoulder sympathetically. “My condolences on you being able to dress reasonably today. However, there is some silver lining you can rely on.” 

“And what’s that?” Riddler questioned, fingers leaving his eyes so he could get a better look at Oswald from his place. The fiend’s face crestfallen and dreading what he could be brought by a group of goons with no sense of style.

“Those glasses do fit you quite handsomely.” The man commented fondly from his spot, admiring the matte black finish on the glasses he didn’t know Zsasz had picked out of the top layer. “I look forward to seeing more of those on you.” 

Riddler’s chest heated again and he bit the inside of his lower lip to refrain from making too much of a reaction. Should he be so attached? Why? Why was a simple statement like that earning a reaction? He… liked Oswald, yes, but this much? “Thank you, Oz.” Oz. Again.

Ooohhh… If the glasses or the suits counted in his courting, it could explain the boosted reaction. Normally it was only… display items… The glasses. He was going to display them out. He was going to take the _collection_ of glasses and _display_ them. Two pair had broken in some sort of rescue of Oswald, and one from the man’s exhilaratingly violent hand. He had attached feelings to Oswald and his glasses… that’s why it counted. Oswald had to return the second stage courting in order to progress, he had to give a gift of sentimentality that could be displayed. 

And now they both had.  
Now he had to plan out something for stage three, and he had just the idea of what he could do.

Riddler was in a confusing limbo of wishing to court Oswald and wanting to deny the feelings that came from it. Which was further than he was some time ago when they first met the human and he was in full denial. 

“It is the least I can do.” Oswald answered easily, slipping himself off the bed to begin his day. The human focused on his tasks, trying to get back his appetite and recover completely after his week and a day trial. 

After phone calls were made, breakfast consumed, bathroom routines complete, more phone calls made, and one upset changing of clothes later, Riddler was off by later day to the tailor. Meanwhile, Oswald handled the police that arrived on scene to investigate his break-in and the bodies dumped in bushes around the side of the manor. 

 

The demon got back by use of one of Oswald’s drivers, the same one who brought him to the Downtown area to begin with, returning with fabric swatches on a small keyring. The fiend believing the human would find some enjoyment looking at the material he’d selected with the freedom he’d been given.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!” 

And it seemed he arrived just in time. 

Oswald was yelling at Commissioner Jim Gordon, the shorter man rocking forward onto his toes to yell in the officer’s face. “Oswald, we found his fingerprints on everything, he killed your other guard and then himself by what we have so far.”

“THAT IS FALSE! THEY WORKED WELL TOGETHER, JIM!” Oswald insisted, Riddler watching his newer boss gesture towards the ground aggressively with a finger. “HE DID **NOT** DO THAT!”

“What didn’t he do?” Riddler questioned as he approached the scene, looking between the officers and Oswald, putting a long Ed-like smile on his face. Out of the clothing he was brought that morning to pick from, the demon slipped on a short-sleeved button up shirt in a green flannel pattern, black tie that went well with his new glasses, and dark grey trousers kept up with a black belt. Now dressed like Ed in front of Ed’s old coworkers, it was time to put on a face.

“Nygma? Did someone call you in?” Jim questioned, not having expected to see the once forensics worker on the scene. He hadn’t ordered anyone to call him, so why Edward was there was beyond him.

“Uhh… no! I work here now, I’m Mr. Cobblepot’s assistant.” Riddler stated in a lighter tone of voice, his smile almost looking uncomfortable in how he held it.

Jim blinked, staring at Riddler for a long moment. “You… work for Penguin now?” He questioned. “Those headaches not bothering you so much anymore?” He had to ask, hands moving to his hips as he questioned the ex-GCPD member.

Riddler held up an index finger to the sky, pointing upwards as he smiled. “Actually, I’ve found this change in pace to be very liberating. Hardly a headache since I joined the Cobblepot team. Most of what I do is organizing and sorting, it’s pretty basic stuff.” He stated with his hands then joining behind him, standing tall next to the others. “Sooo… what did the guys not do?” He questioned in a nosy manner, noting how Oswald was staring at him curiously.

“One of the guards here seems to have killed his partner on the beat, broke in, didn’t find what he was looking for then killed himself. Or both of them attempted a break in, it didn’t go as planned, so then murder-suicide became the solution.” James Gordon listed a couple options for who he assumed was Ed, watching as the spectacled figure stepped forward towards the crime scene. 

“Well, that doesn’t sound at all like Mark. Don’t you think, Oswald?” He questioned, walking briskly to where the bodies were. “What was Mark’s cause of death?”

“I’ve been trying to tell them that very thing, Edward!” Oswald played along, able to tell that it wasn’t Ed who was speaking at the moment. Riddler was still there, Ed was simply his cover around the others. Much like with Zsasz, he posed the one persona for general public. “Mark would never do that.” 

The forensics people on scene stared at the tall man who watched them too closely, one of them knew Ed and the other didn’t. The newer person must have been a replacement for him. “I… uhh… I can’t tell you information about… the scene, Sir.” 

Gordon waved it off, using a hand to point to Ed. “It’s fine, he’s one of us. He can know.” 

The forensics person glanced with uncertainty heavy in their eyes at the demon before nodding along. “The suspected victim had his throat cut like our second vic over there. The knife used for it had only his fingerprints and doesn’t look like any smudges from gloved hands either.”

_“They’re wrong, but I’d give them a solid C- for the effort.”_ The real Ed personality appeared next to the body, looking over the scene with interest. He was in his element. He was home. A place where he felt so comfortable and needed before he was brought into Oswald’s employ.

“They’re wrong, but they tried.” Riddler nearly echoed, finding it easier to play an Ed when he had the real thing feeding him lines.

_“Let me take this? Please? This is what I need.”_ Ed pointed at the bodies with a smile on his face, Riddler knowing that his other half made a better him than he could ever be. He couldn’t push that large, stupid smile of his for long. Conniving grins were more his style.

Jim looked at Ed curiously, brows dropped as he thought it over. “They’re wrong? How do’ya know?”

The demon relaxed for a moment staying quiet before a more excited Ed turned to meet Jim’s eye. “Get me some gloves and I’ll show you.” He offered, his hands weaving his fingers together to interlock.

How the demons could change back and forth when needed impressed Oswald most of all. That twinkle in Ed’s eye and the genuine smile were really all he needed to see, the wrinkles by his eyes because his smile affected his whole face, not just his mouth. “Ed, don’t track anything in the manor if you’re going to be playing around the bodies.” Oswald instructed, leaning against the cane he was using for the day, still feeling tender from the last week. It was improving slowly, but it wasn’t better.

“Yes, Mr. Cobblepot.” Ed agreed quickly, smiling back at Jim expectantly as he waited for his permission.

“Alright. Get him gloves and boots, he’s consulting on this.” Jim allowed, more willing to see the job get done right. Edward was always right in what he found, and often picked up what others missed or didn’t consider, he was a valuable asset on any case, although he tested patience at times… there was no one better at his job than him.

Ed bounced a bit as he took a pair of offered gloves from the people on scene, sliding booties over his shoes to prevent him from picking up anything important in his shoe treads. “I’d like to direct your attention to the angle of the throat slitting.” The fiend crouched by the second security guard, using a now gloved hand to reach for the neck, running his fingers along inside the wound. “Now, this laceration is nearly parallel to the ground all the way across, meaning the assailant would have been a similar height to our first victim.” Ed glanced to the new forensics person filling in his place. “Make note that it’s simpler to address victim numbers in chronological order of death, rather than placement of discovery.” 

Oswald cracked a grin seeing Ed in his natural environment. How, despite him no longer being employed by the GCPD, the demon was still leading as if this was his team. 

“So, moving onto victim number two!” Ed announced, scuttling his way over to Mark, using his clean glove to repeat his actions. “Ahh, yeah. See, if you feel it, you can tell he shouldn’t have been able to do this on his own. Oswald, do you have many left-handed employees in your business?” He asked as he got new gloves from the crew, not looking to spread blood smudges everywhere.

Oswald blinked a few times before shaking his head. “Not to my knowledge. I am, as well as a couple of the cleaning staff for certain. All of my men are right-handed that I’m aware of.” He knew the cleaning staff had some left-handed women on it because they would borrow scissors from his desk from time-to-time, which he allowed only if they were returned. A left-handed person using right-handed scissors was annoying at best.

“So to your knowledge Mark is right-handed?” Ed questioned, picking up Mark’s right hand to study it. 

“Yes.”

“Where is this going, Ed?”

“I’m glad you asked, Jim!” Ed held up Mark’s hand with a grin, almost waving it at the men on the other side of the crime scene tape. “The calluses are more prominent on his right hand, meaning it was used more and likely right-hand dominant. Now! This is applicable because if you attempted to slit your own throat, in the middle like these men have, whatever hand you hold the knife with will cause the cut to move upwards as you get closer to that same side. You can’t cut a perfectly flat line right across as this one is because your shoulder prevents a clean, perfect line. Either this, or the laceration stops short either in the wound ending or in the knife gradually leaving the flesh on an incline.”

“And that’s not what his is like, is it?” Gordon questioned, eyeing the body Ed was so focused on.

“Not even a little.” He agreed with the Commissioner’s question. “If I could have you and Mr. Cobblepot offer me assistance, I have a fun experiment.” He didn’t have the forensics lab, but he could still make a demonstration and a point. “Jim, if you would allow me to cut your throat.” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Gordon seemed unsure, watching Ed carefully as the tall body got a ruler from one of the tech’s kits. “Alright, make it quick.”

“That’s the point!” Ed stood behind Jim, crouching slightly to match his old employer’s height, hand on one shoulder and other holding the ruler. “Now, if I was to cut your throat at a similar height to yours, my blade edge would either be flat, like so, and an even pressure most of the way across. Or! The blade edge would be tilted upwards if I was somewhat taller, but still relatively even.” He drug the edge of the wooden ruler along Jim’s throat excitedly as he explained before handing the ruler to Oswald. “Mr. Cobblepot, if you would cut my throat, please.”

Oswald stared at the ruler for a long moment, sighing before gripping the measuring device in his hand. He passed off the cane to Ed who kept it safe as the shorter man stood behind the demon, holding Ed’s forehead like a professional should in this method of killing. He did as he was told, _‘cutting’_ Ed’s throat until the fiend grabbed his wrist to pause him, pointing at the action to Jim.

“You see how Oswald holds the ruler? His shorter stature on a taller target means the knife blade is at a downward angle as his hand would naturally want to hold it. Mark’s wound is similar to this technique, I believe there were either two assailants. Or someone had Mark kill our first victim, then murdered him themselves when he was no longer useful.” Ed explained, pulling off his gloves to signal he’d concluded his investigation. 

Which was somewhat less impressive when he already knew the answer, but setting it up like he didn’t know was just as well. He passed Oswald his cane back, hands joined in front of himself again while he stood next to his newer boss happily.

Jim pointed at the bodies with a hand, brow dropping as he absorbed what Ed told him. “And you’re sure about that?”

“One hundred percent positive. You’re either looking for a smaller male, or a female, probably wearing heeled boots that have themselves slightly taller, but still shorter than our victims who seem an approximate… five foot ten to six foot one.” 

“How do you know they had heels on?” Jim questioned, but Ed merely gestured to an impression in the ground and dirt near the bodies that had a crime scene numbered marker next to it.

“Unless you were stomping around here in high heels earlier, Commissioner, no one at this scene seems to have shoes on like that. And it would make little sense for any groundskeeper to have them on either. It simply isn’t practical.” Ed stated, adjusting his glasses on his face proudly. 

Jim’s attention turned to Oswald, ready to apprehend the suspect no matter who it was for. This was his job. A job he took seriously. “Do you have many enemies that fit that description, Penguin?”

Oswald pretended to consider it, glancing off to the side before tapping his cane into the ground. “Ah, you know, I just made a new enemy the other day, now that you mention it. Tabitha Galavan, she seems to think we had something to do with her brother’s disappearance.” 

“And did you?” Jim knew what questions he had to cover with Oswald, the _‘business’_ man was never short of secrets.

Oswald scoffed, his eyes widened at Jim like he was insulted. “Of course not! Theo and I were going to be business partners. He had properties I wanted, I had properties he wanted. We were going to make trades, I’d even met with him several times. He was a gentleman, Jim, you don’t find people who can make deals like he did any day. It was going to be beneficial to have a partnership with him.” Oswald lied as much as he could to fluff up the story to remove himself from suspicion. “His sister was there on our last meeting, she didn’t seem to take kindly to either of us. A very quiet, but aggressive and angry woman. I’d be careful of her, if I were you, Jim.” He gave the Commissioner fair warning, patting him on the shoulder before turning to walk away.

“Don’t go too far, Penguin, we might need to ask you more questions.” Jim Gordon called back, getting a wave in acknowledgement from the hobbling man as he continued along his own path. Ed politely nodded his head to his old boss, following his new one back to the manor with a skip in his step. One more way to show off his smarts in front of others, and even better that it didn’t seem the forensics team had caught the knife blade direction yet. No doubt it was something the M.E. would have noted, but on scene it made him quite superior. If only he hadn’t known the answer at all, it would’ve made the experience even more satisfying.

Oswald lead them back into the manor, knowing who he had in his company now, glancing to the demon with a grin on his face and a plan in his head. “Ed, I have news for you.”

“And _he_ had something to show you, but I had to take over for that scene.” He added into the conversation, knowing Riddler had wanted to share the swatches. And… perhaps it was the least he could do when the other let him take over for showing off. “You start first.”

“I intended to.” Oswald grinned, continuing with his thoughts. “First, your organization needs to be finished with those cabinets. Second, you need to fix that drawer you broke. And thirdly, your computer parts will be here by tomorrow, so be prepared for your electronic filing whatever it was then, I’ve pulled a few strings and everything you need to compile those electronic files should be here by tomorrow evening. Files and records that are far more detailed than what I keep in my office, these go down to family ties and police records.”

Ed raised a brow, eyeing Oswald with interest. “You got police files?”

“Gordon might be in charge and straightened out most of the force, but there’s always a loose bolt in a factory.” Oswald stated smugly, turning to continue further into the manor, heading towards his office. “Now, what was it Riddler wanted to show me?”

Ed pulled the ring of swatches out of his front pocket. “I’m guessing that he wanted to show off what he found without giving away the entire look.” The generally sweeter of the two personalities had been active while waiting for Riddler to pick everything, knowing he’d be in them as well from time to time. So naturally, his curiosity got the better of him. 

Oswald took the ring, flipping through each one and noticed the heavy dependence on greens and blacks. Not that he didn’t understand. When one found their suit style, it was difficult to deviate. Green was apart of his signature, so it made sense. “I’m interested to see how these turn out for you both, the materials feel wonderful.” He commented, handing the ring back. Not that he expected any different, he only went to the best suit tailor in the city. Fabrics were flown in from around the world to make only the most top quality product money could buy. And for Gotham elites, they could afford it. 

 

While the pair continued on to their afternoon with Ed finishing his filing system redux and taking out a tool kit to repair his past damage, another was finding her own way through the city. To gain her footing on how to efficiently take down the duo that opposed her wishes. Granted, her wishes were to kill them, which most people would fight back against, but she never didn’t get what she wanted.

Tabitha Galavan trekked Gotham freely at the moment, not yet found by the GCPD who were just starting to get word on who to keep an eye for in order to get her in for questioning. She marched through the town, shoulder completely healed, but the holes in her leather jacket told a different story. She needed someone. Needed anyone who looked like they could kick ass and take down a multi-million dollar criminal empire. She needed someone smart, someone crazy… 

Tabby searched for the evening, soon learning that she couldn’t be caught on the streets with the police cars rolling by. She had quickly experienced that they were looking specifically for her, and the cop she had killed that afternoon in order to keep from being arrested probably wasn’t helping her case at the moment.

It was maybe a hasty decision, but it was in the moment and he had aimed a gun at her. What else was she supposed to do other than attack? 

It was his fault really.

So Tabby took the form of a woman she’d seen earlier that day, strolling casually in her clothes and her body. It made moving about the city so much easier now that she had a warrant out for her arrest. She made her way into a nightclub, thinking that the best of the worst Gotham had to offer had to have been in seedy clubs across the city. She had an idea of which ones her brother owned, sticking to them rather than trying to sneak into any of Penguin’s listings. Not yet, anyhow. 

She sat herself at a bar, roughing off a few bruisers who thought of themselves as ladies’ men until a new figure sat down beside her. Tabby glanced over to see a well-dressed woman, bobbed platinum blonde hair framing her face well. “These _boys_ giving you a hard time?” She questioned, having arrived with a drink already in hand, sipping at a small amount of it with her eyes on the woman she’d never seen on this side of town before. And the blonde was quite good with faces.

“No, I’m handling them just fine.” Tabby replied back in the woman’s voice smugly, knowing not one of the men in that bar could get a drop on her. 

“Seems like it, that’s why I’m over here.” The blonde woman explained, sipping at her drink again before setting it down in front of herself. “You’re new, and new girls don’t usually last in here. So, you must be looking for something that you’re sticking around for. Maybe I can help.” She offered with a darling smile, though it was wide and filled with pearly teeth it read as sinister. “I’m good with getting what’s needed out of people.” 

“Are you?” Tabby questioned with some disbelief, not about to believe a pretty face could get her anything she wanted. “How good are you with taking apart someone’s legacy brick by brick?”

“Sweetie,” The blonde began, turning to better face Tabitha, resting a hand on her knee. “That’s a specialty of mine. Who are you looking to remove from power?”

“Oswald Cobblepot.”

The blonde paused for a moment in thought, raising her glass again. “Mhmm, you know, I was just thinking Gotham could use a fresh coat of paint. This purple is getting drab.” She answered, more than ready to take a chance on ruining a powerful entity in the crime world in order to best make her mark on the city. She already had a hand in his employment chain at a point. Unfortunately, that connection had been removed, but she’d managed to collect enough arms and resources from Penguin’s shipments to start up her own small business nearly free of charge. Everything she was making now was gravy. The blonde woman explained her dealings behind Oswald already, piggybacking off his power to slingshot herself ahead.

Tabby grinned, dropping her guise which caught the blonde’s attention further. “I’m Tabitha Galavan, and I’d like to make you a deal. Help me destroy Oswald Cobblepot and his little pet Edward Nygma, and I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” She held out her hand to the blonde woman, her devil’s hand noticeable under her sleeve.

“Barbara Kean. And neat party trick, you rent out for kids shows?” She questioned with a long smile, taking the hand immediately. “I’ll get you Penguin and the string bean. In exchange, I want Gotham under me as a throne. I’m going to rule this city however I want, and there won’t be a single man in my way to tell me no again.” She made her end of the bargain, feeling the stab into her hand but the woman merely laughed at the sting, eyes holding strict contact with Tabitha’s.

“You’ve just made a deal with a devil, Barbara. Hope you can keep up.” 

“Get me another martini and you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest.  
> Mostly put in a box of glasses because my new aesthetic is just Ed/Riddler in odd versions of his original glasses. Colors, patterns, textures.  
> This is just something I need in life.


	15. Optical Illusion

Barbara Kean was not one to run around without information. She had her fingers on the pulse of gossip in Gotham and she made sure that nothing was known without having heard it first. No matter how small the tidbit, she found it out. If there was something she didn’t know, she hunted down the answer until it was hers. 

Something she knew little about was the mystery man in green that often was found with Oswald in most senses of the word. Mystery Man in a suit tailoring store? Oswald’s favorite establishment for suits, Oswald’s driver. Mystery Man coming out of his apartment? Oswald’s men coming in and out, Oswald stopping by. Mystery Man suddenly running the docks and shipping numbers? Oswald’s orders, Oswald’s men under his control.

All of a sudden, this no one came from left field and started having a part in Penguin’s life and Barbara wanted to get to the bottom of it. Unfortunately, other than him being Penguin’s new assistant, very little people knew anything of him. No idea where he came from. He didn’t come from a criminal group or background that anyone knew of. He wasn’t very active in many scenes. The most anyone saw him was, _surprise_ , by Oswald’s side or at Oswald’s club.

Again, nothing about him without the other.

Some… Gumby leprechaun popped out from obscurity and now had part of Gotham under his control? It wasn’t fair! She wanted to remove him, him and Penguin. The two of them had to go. Mystery Man had made Penguin more efficient, more powerful. He tightened loose ends, sealed cracks, he repaired damage. It wasn’t fair! She couldn’t take what she needed as well with someone like Mystery Man around.

Luckily, she found someone with a little more information, and now she had Tabitha as well. Edward Nygma. Which, to be honest, sounded made up. Edward Nygma was some drone in the GCPD for the last few years, where he came from before that no one knew. He didn’t grow up in Gotham, he just… arrived and was there. Tabitha’s information filled in a few more holes. 

He was a demon. Not like Tabitha, but similar enough. He was older than any human alive and could charm any person into doing what he wished of them. And that was a power she’d love to have herself. Not that she _needed_ it, but it would make her life a little easier. Although Tabitha mentioned the demon and Oswald were a pair, no one else seemed to think so. They were keeping it under wraps, hush-hush, but it was difficult to argue when Tabitha mentioned they were in bed together. That was a little more than just a _‘business partnership’_. Though she couldn’t argue with their results. Whatever they were doing, or not doing, was working.

They were a powerhouse together and Barbara Kean hated it.  
It was a house she wanted abandoned and torn down.

Now she had her own demon and her own connections. A secret, gay relationship between the most powerful man in Gotham and his praying mantis assistant? That was the juiciest piece of gossip the city had in a long time, and one could be sure she was going to use it to her advantage. 

In due time though, it wasn’t time yet. At a point it’d be useful.

 

Barbara had people posted on every main street in Gotham, sources she could count on and people that she knew. If there was any word on Penguin and his whereabouts, or that peapod that followed him, she would get it first. 

A day after she’d met the she-devil she got the call. Penguin’s main car was on the move in the Mid-Town island area. A furniture store first, then a restaurant. The car moved Downtown, there was a theater trip and an ice cream parlor. Both of the men were on this trip, Penguin and the talking office plant, Edward Nygma carrying around a clipboard wherever they went. He was actively writing notes when he walked out of buildings, so her sources said. 

They went in together, they left together.   
And at one point took out a large filing cabinet with them to put in a second car to send off somewhere. It was odd. 

Barbara got word that the car was headed to the fashion district of Gotham, the woman folding her hands together as she thought. Furniture, food, a show, and a treat followed by shopping? 

“It’s a date!”

Tabitha glanced over at the sudden outburst of the blonde, having been hanging around Barbara’s humble office space which was really just a side room in a curios shop she’d filled with the guns she’d stolen out from under Oswald. “What?”

“They’re on a date! Right now! What couple goes out to pick out furniture together, eats, gets a snack, and sees a movie just as nothing?! This is a date, I know it is!” She demanded that she be recognized as right, standing up from her chair quickly. Barbara knew romance. Or, what resembled romance at least, and this was a romantic gesture. 

Maybe no one else saw it, whatever they were doing, but this was a high school level of _‘do you like me?’_ date and be damned if she was going to let it end happily. “Tabby, sweetie, take whatever you like off the shelves, consider it a gift.” Barbara allowed, reaching under her desk to pull out an automatic rifle from its storage, loading a full magazine into the receiver. “I think I know just what we need to do to put that Penguin in a zoo.” 

Tabitha grinned as she stood with the comment, taking a long rifle off of the wall. “Whatever you say.” 

With a few more weapons in hand, the two left the unassuming building, already in the Mid-Town area, it took them no time for Barbara to drive them down to where Penguin and his green side-arm were last seen. Still in the suit store, the women parked on the opposite side of the street, sneaking peeks at the building and the occupants through the windows with pairs of binoculars. They had parked just up the street from the business, needing to see, but couldn’t be directly across the road. 

The overgrown weed was down to a dress shirt, being measured and fitted with some kind of dummy suit. The pattern-use fabric being fitted to him as needed. Barb watched Oswald closely, while Tabitha had Edward. 

“Look how Penguin circles him. He’s watching him. Making sure every little thing is just how he wants it.” Barb commented, watching Oswald disappear behind the Incubus with the tailor, the two clearly pointing out something with his back before they came into sight again. The demon being fitted clearly just doing what he was told. “He’s all over him, it’s crazy. Like nothing can be wrong on his freakish sidekick.” She commented, with a heavy sigh. “Wait…” 

“What?” Tabitha perked up when it seemed like Barbara saw something useful, instead of prattling on about what she thought she was seeing. 

“Look at that. Look! Right there! Do you see that?” Barbara pointed despite using her binoculars, focusing as best she could on Oswald. “Look, watch Penguin’s left hand, he’s going to do it again.” She instructed with urgency.

Tabitha rolled her eyes, looking through the ocular instrument again to watch Penguin’s hand drop, the man walking around the demon a few paces before, as Barbara called, his hand rose again. Oswald’s fingers playing with the suit pattern pieces over Ed’s frame. “Okay, so he likes suits? So what?”

“What do you mean _‘So what’_? Do they not have romantic movies in _Demon Land_?” Barb questioned with a shake of her head, a hand moving out to hit Tabitha in the arm when it happened again. “Look! Look!” Oswald’s hand again rose to adjust the jacket’s right torso panel, playing with it until it sat just so against Edward. “See? Look at that! Tell me you see it too.”

“I…” Tabitha was trying to see it, she really was, but she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. “I see he touches him a lot.” 

Barb dropped her binoculars, staring at Tabby with wide, expectant eyes. “Yeah! You think?” Her smile wide and sarcastic. “This is way better than I thought.” The blonde woman laughed mostly to herself, raising the binoculars to look again. “He’s so in love with him, look at that! He’s so smiley, he can’t keep his hands off him, he keeps pacing around. Penguin can’t share a spotlight worth a damn, but this moment is all about his little demon-buddy.”

“In love? They’re bang buddies, sure, but in love? An Incubus can’t be in love, they are always in lust, but they don’t know what love is.”

“And I think you’re letting your biases get in the way.” Barbara told the she-devil bluntly, whispering to her with squinted eyes and a wrinkled nose. “We need facts, not what you think you know about him. And the fact of the matter is, Penguin is absolutely in love with this stray he found and this makes everything **so** much better!”

“It does?”

“Tell me, what happened when Penguin thought his tag-along was dead when you had him captured? Give me the details.”

Tabitha shrugged somewhat, dropping her binoculars into her lap. “I don’t know… He cried, he was sad, he didn’t really eat, he didn’t do really anything…” 

“EXACTLY!” Barb shouted, trying to get Tabitha to fixate on the point. “Penguin thought his little bushel of love was gone, and got depressed. You broke him, but then stupidly gave him hope back. You gave him a reason to be angry. Penguin, although as weak as he is, is stronger when he’s angry. He’s dangerous when he’s pissed off. You can’t stop him when he’s on a warpath. Someone could probably brainwash him clean, but if you made him angry he’d remember so quickly how to kill you in a thousand ways.” She warned her demon associate. “Don’t give him a reason to fight, that’s your biggest mistake.” Barb pointed out, seeing how Oswald doted on Edward meticulously. 

“He is kinda feisty when he’s angry.” Oswald had been instant on trying to slit her throat when he had the chance. Had she been human, that would have been her end. 

“Exactly. So! Let’s try to piss him off.” Barb announced with a smile, having been forming a plot in her head during the stakeout. 

Tabitha stared at her partner for a long moment, trying to figure out what her play was in this. “I thought you just said we didn’t do that?”

“No, no. You shouldn’t have then. _Now_ we need him to fight.” Barb smiled deviously as she settled in her seat. “Let’s go start a scene.”

 

As Oswald and Ed left the tailor’s, they waited on the sidewalk for Oswald’s driver to return from getting gas and lunch, they finished earlier than expected with Ed’s second fitting. It being convenient that at least the two demon personalities shared the same physical body. “I must admit, I was skeptical at first of how this might happen. Your secret planning. However, it’s been very enjoyable.” Oswald admitted to the demon with a content smile, eyes entirely on Ed with both hands holding onto the handle of his cane. 

“You’ve certainly relaxed since dinner.” Ed had made note of, glad when Oswald had let some of his guard melt away enough for them to enjoy themselves. Though he could understand why his boss was the way he was, he couldn’t afford to be caught unaware. The attitude certainly didn’t hurt his feelings, but he was much more glad to see Oswald letting go a little. “You were a little hands on with the fitting.”

Oswald rolled his eyes with a fond grin. “It isn’t my fault you are every awkward proportion summarized into one body. Tall, short torso, all leg, wide shoulders, slim waist, long limbs? You are a suit’s worst nightmare.” The man commented, checking his watch for the time. It should only be a few minutes at that point and they would be on their way again. “I had to be sure he was getting all your measurements as accurately as possible.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be the best in the city?”

“Yes.” Oswald paused for a moment, knowing he could have… possibly been less handsy with Edward. “However, that doesn’t make him an expert on you.” He pointed out, having seen several things about Ed that Riddler wouldn’t have likely done at his fitting. Oswald could see how some pieces fit differently in certain places, the point of being so picky about the details was to try and find the differences and fit them in between. 

Where Riddler’s chest puffed out and was held higher, Ed slumped his posture more. Ed would sometimes squish in his shoulders as he stood, Riddler at times increased his height with heeled boots. Like he needed it. Little things between the two that was going to affect how the suit sat on them. Things he couldn’t allow to slip by in detail while the garments were being made. 

“You’re an expert on me now?” Ed questioned with an amused smile, head tilting as he attempted to consider what that meant. 

Oswald shrugged a shoulder, lower lip sticking out as he side-eyed the demon, expressive as usual. “I’d consider myself an experienced consultant of you.” His tone almost seemed to brag while he grinned to the demon, fingers sneaking their way to Ed’s lapel to pick a hair off of it, flicking it away. “Some would say I have an attention for detail.” 

“I would agree with that.” Edward nodded along, looking down at the man with his hands clasped together in front of himself. The fiend had, had a wonderful day thus far. His chest warm and crackling actively at the attention he’d been receiving from Oswald over the last three stops. Once the human got warmed into the mood, he went right along with it. “It’s a very attractive quality that you have.”

“Only the one? I like to think I have a multitude of attractive qualities, Ed.” 

Ed chuckled as Oswald’s head tipped back to snootily have his nose in the air, praising himself well to the demon’s statement. “I did want to ask… for private time together for more than one reason. It takes at least two.” 

Oswald rolled his eyes, glancing down the street to where his driver should be coming from, checking his watch again. “He’s late.”

“Maybe traffic has hit that 12% daily chance to swell at 4:37pm?”

“He’s never late, Ed.”

The first gunshot went off and both bodies on the sidewalk turned towards it, hearing it ricochet off a nearby lamppost. Ed’s body froze as his mind immediately debated on what to do, Oswald reacting as he naturally did for anyone in his career. The man dropped into a crouch, wasting no time to scramble behind a vehicle, hands on his head, soon staring at Ed left feet behind him out in the open. “Ed! Edward! Get over here!” Oswald shouted at his partner, gesturing to the ground with a finger, panic written across his face. That bullet was either meant for them, or meant as a warning. And either way… it was concerning. 

Ed rushed over to the car as told, several other bullets whizzing by, hitting the car through the windows that Oswald hid behind. “We made it through most of a day without a life threatening situation.” 

Oswald shook his head, cane beside him on the ground as he looked around wildly, ready for anything else to happen. “Of course it-” He was cut off as the window above him shattered, raining glass fragments over his head and suit. “-had to be today…” He pouted, using a hand to brush the glass out of his hair. “Couldn’t have waited to try and kill either of us tomorrow. No. Had to be today…” He grumbled, not liking that one of his rare days of relaxing had been cut short with an attempt on either of their lives. 

What an annoyance. 

A body appeared around the corner of the suit store, gun in hand, aiming at the two as the shooting from across the street paused for the moment. The man with the gun grinned at the pair on the sidewalk, pulling back the hammer to his pistol. “Lookie who it is, Penguin hidin’ all scared. An’ I get the chance to pop ‘im. Night-night Penguin.”

As the man squeezed the trigger, Ed couldn’t help but to leap forward, blocking Oswald with himself to take the shot. The bullet left the pistol, crossing the short distance in a moment to bury itself in Ed’s back, making the demon jump slightly at the sharp pain. “Ahh!” As much as it did no real damage to him, he still didn’t take most pain reactions well. It wasn’t as searing and shocking as it would be to a person, but… it still hurt… 

Oswald could see the attacker ready to pull the trigger again, the man needing to make an executive decision. “I apologize for this in advance.”

“Apologize f-” Ed hardly had time to ask when Oswald guided them both onto their feet with his cane in hand, Ed being shot again several times in the back as he used the demon as his shield, unable to take a shot without getting severely hurt, but Ed… Ed just had to heal over time. He’d have to be forgiven. “Oswald!” His voice reflected betrayal as Oswald slipped the head of the cane out of the shaft, using Ed between them to keep himself safe before stabbing the man in the neck with what force he could muster.

“I said I apologize! What do you want me to do, Ed, get shot multiple times? I’m afraid I don’t take it as well as you do.” Oswald hissed as he pushed the blade further into the man’s neck with a scowl, watching him drop to the ground with a sick gurgling sound. “See? Now was that so difficult?”

“You’re not the one with five bullets in your torso...” Ed mumbled under his breath, seeing where Riddler was coming from with the… not being shot request.

Another shot left the other side of the street, Oswald pulling Ed down to crouch with him again, grabbing the gun their attacker dropped and took the spare clip from his body. “Ed, whatever the issue is, I’d appreciate if we could solve at a later time?” The man requested, pushing himself against the car that had protected them thus far. 

“I was shot!”  
“You can’t die from it!”  
“But now I’ve ruined a sweater!”  
“I’ll buy you one hundred sweaters if you desist!”  
“This was our date day!”  
“Yes! And I, for one, am also upset about that!”

Oswald waited for the shots to pause again, peeking over the edge of the car window, only to have a bullet whiz by his head that caused him to drop back down into a seated position. This was getting on his nerves, the man sitting up again with a scowl, seeing a body across the street dressed in black clothing, holding a long rifle. “I see our other uninvited guest.” He mentioned, watching as the person emptied the ejection port, loading in another few bullets. 

The man stood, taking a shot on their assailant from his position, clipping them in the side before he pulled the trigger to drive a second bullet into their chest. The large body dropped to the ground. 

“Wonderful shot.” Ed commented, looking around the bumper of the car at the body laying still on the ground, the blood pooling around it. 

Sirens caught both of their attention, the two glancing to each other with some panic. “I need to see who it is.” Oswald warned Ed at first, taking the gun and his cane with him to move around the vehicle while the demon’s brows sunk in worry.

“I think we should depart the scene!” The fiend called in return, sneaking out from around the car to follow behind Oswald, not believing this to be the best time to discover treachery. Whoever it was, they could find out later, at a safer time. Who knew how many more shooters there could be around? This was a risk… “Oswald…! Oswald get back!” Where was that driver? He couldn’t possibly still be gone… Even with 4:37pm traffic, the math didn’t add up.

Oswald hobbled his way across the street, eyes darting in every corner and alley around him, knowing Ed was looking behind him. He could handle this. It was only for a few moments, then they’d leave. The man got to the body laying in the sidewalk, but it was not the one he shot. In the sidewalk, covered in blood, was an 80-year-old woman in a pastel cat sweater, lying completely still with eyes glazed over and form stiff. “What…?” She wasn’t there before though. He shot a man. This elderly woman did not have the large shoulders of the body he had aimed in the center of. “Where is he? Where is the man?!” He called, looking back to Ed halfway across the street to take in the scene as Oswald did. 

The sirens got louder, police cars rounding the corner in a fleet. Oswald’s eyes shot up, looking down the other side to see a matching set of cars coming at them from there as well. “Oswald!” The man was still confused, frozen as he tried to imagine what happened. This wasn’t who he shot…! This wasn’t right at all! “Oswald, we need t-”

“Ed, go!” Oswald turned back to him, pointing away. “GO! I can’t outrun them, you can fix this!” He declared, backing away from the woman’s body with gun in hand. “RUN!”

Ed scrambled back as the police began to close in, the demon hesitating before taking off down an alley behind the suit store. 

_“What are you doing? You could have taken him with you!”_ A voice echoed in Ed’s head, clearly furious at the results of the scene. 

“He told me to run, so I am. I can fix this… _We_ can fix this. We’ll get him out of this.” Ed stated with certainty, they were no lawyer, but solving problems was what they did. If they were going to get Oswald cleared of a murder… he didn’t mean to commit, then they had to be free. He couldn’t very well release Oswald if he was locked up with him. “He’s smart. He can hold them off.”

Riddler growled in the back of Ed’s mind, not appearing as running did him no good as a projection. _“Of course we can solve it, but we could have taken him out of there. Kept him in hiding. He doesn’t need to be arrested.”_

“This is what he said to do, so I’m doing it. He trusts us, this is what he thought was best. We simply need to go from here.”

_“You’re both completely moronic. This could have turned out incredibly different. We could have him **with** us instead.”_

 

“Freeze! Oswald Cobblepot, drop the weapon and put your hands on your head!” Several police with aimed pistols and handguns stared at Oswald from behind their car doors, a number of them shouting at once, but he could understand what was going on. The man tossed the gun away from himself, letting his cane fall to the ground as well. It was technically a weapon in a number of ways. Oswald raised his hands over his head, thinking quickly as he took in the body on the street.

“That wasn’t who I shot! There was a man… with a gun! She wasn’t here! She was never here!” Oswald rose his voice to the officers, hands gestured in the air as he spun around to see them all. “She was never there! She was a man! She was a man with a gun!” The best he could do was play insane, it was honestly what happened. Even on a lie detector test, his story would be entirely accurate to tell anyone. It would seem crazy, but he knew what he saw. As much as he felt no remorse about the dead older woman and her horrendous sweater, he knew he hadn’t shot her. That was not the man he’d killed. “I swear to you, she was a man a minute ago!”

“Alright, hands behind your head! Tell it to the boys Downtown. You’re under arrest, Oswald, put ‘em behind your head!” Another officer yelled, approaching Oswald carefully as the crime boss followed their instructions, being handcuffed and shoved into a patrol car to be taken back to the GCPD. Cold-blooded murder, that’s what this was. An open and shut case, really.

 

Jim sat at his desk as Oswald yelled from the holding cell inside the GCPD building, hands clutching the bars as he called about the man that wasn’t there, having stated there was another body on scene but that hadn’t been recovered either. The street was clean other than shattered glass and the dead, older woman whose family didn’t seem to care much about her passing. The Commissioner could hear him through his office, groaning in annoyance. Oswald could probably shout from one side of Gotham to the other and still be heard… it was ridiculous. 

Interviews and questioning, still Penguin was absolutely determined that other people were on scene. A few officers had seen someone run off from the street and out of view, though they couldn’t find anyone around outside the area that didn’t seem like general public. Oswald claimed to have killed two people that had opened fire on him first, but there was nothing left behind. His cane was missing from the scene, so there was no blood to test for the knife he had. There were no male dead bodies to look over, only the dead, old woman… Jim Gordon rubbed at his eyes with his hands, trying to consider every angle of the case. 

He let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair as Harvey entered the office, closing the door behind him with a shake of his head. “He’s going batshit crazy out there, Jim. You gotta do something about him. Shut him up, gag him, toss him out to Arkham, something. Anything. Please…” The detective asked of his partner, sitting in the chair across the desk from Gordon, the wooden furniture creaking under his weight. 

“We can’t send him to Arkham, the last group that went through there weeks ago took a bomb in and cleared out two floors of the main building and of lockup.” Jim reminded him, the Asylum still in construction and most of the inmates no longer in the building anymore. They were either in police stations, taking up space, or they were shipped off to other Asylums and some jails for holding. “We gotta keep him here until we get this mess sorted.” 

“You think he’s just paranoid?”

“Harvey, we _know_ he’s paranoid.”

Harvey raised a hand to stop Jim, continuing with his thought. “No, like… seriously paranoid. Like crazy paranoid? He’s seeing people who aren’t there. He’s claiming some crusty biddy was a man and was shooting at him? He admitted to murdering another guy who’s not even there, Jim. We looked over that scene, we walked that street! There was nothin’.” Harvey brought back what they knew, counting each point off on his fingers. “Look, Jim, he’s nuts. Let’s just ship him away. This is a done deal.”

“Sure looks that way, doesn’t it…?” 

“He’s helped us out before, yeah, but he shot this woman in cold blood in the street before dinner!”

There was a knock on the door, one of the officers sticking her head into the room quietly. “Commissioner Gordon? There’s someone here to see you? A witness coming forward for the street shooting this evening.” 

“Good, send them in.” He waved them on, reaching into his desk to get the forms needed for an official statement. If this opened their eyes on whether Oswald was lying or not, perhaps they could get a better feel for the case.

Designer heels entered the room first, a blonde woman in a fashionable dress smiling widely as she walked in. “Jim, dear, it’s been a while.” 

“Barbara…” 

Harvey’s eyes switched between the two, knowing the insane history the pair had. “And would you look at that, it’s time for my second drink. Crazy how that worked out, right?” He questioned, getting up from his chair to slink out of the room. “Good luck, Jim.” He whispered, though both parties could hear, leaving the office as swiftly as he could and entering the main room where Oswald’s shouting could still be heard clear as day.

“What can I do for you today?” Jim sat forward in his chair, hands meeting each other over the wooden surface of his desk, trying to put on an inviting smile in order to be civil. 

“Well, like the woman said, I witnessed what happened this evening and I am more than willing to put in a statement to the GCPD in order to bring down this menace to Gotham.” Barbara came forward with her intentions, sitting down in the chair Harvey had abandoned. She set a purse she was holding on her lap then reached across the desk to rest her hand over both of Jim’s, eyes maintaining contact with him. “He shot that poor woman today, Jim. For no reason. I saw it happen.” She claimed, tears coming to her eyes as she recalled the story.

“Here, whatever you saw, please write it down. We can use it as an official statement.” Jim had to follow protocol, but he didn’t like that it was Barbara Kean making the claim. She wasn’t trustworthy on the best of days, how could now be any different. He slid her over the papers and a pen, letting the items be taken from him as the woman began to cry freely.

Barbara sniffled in as she held the pen, writing down everything she swore she saw. “She was walking so innocently… Minding her own business. Then that… psycho jumped out from behind a car and shot her! She went down so fast… Poor thing never stood a chance. Two shots, Jim. That’s all it took. Two shots and she was taken from her family and friends. All because some deranged man thought… what? It’d be a funny joke? It’d impact something? It’d benefit him?” She questioned Oswald’s _‘motives’_ as she wrote, telling everything down to specific details.

“Sometimes we just can’t know with him.” Jim shrugged his shoulders, but none of this read right to him. Unless that woman had something on Oswald, or she had some connection to the criminal network… it would be odd of him to kill her. Any of Oswald’s _found_ and suspected body trails had something to do with his business. The illegal side of his business. If he had any civilian kills, the GCPD didn’t know about it. Penguin was careful about his public image, he didn’t overly hide who he was, but he never acted out against the people where they would see. He took care of his business behind closed doors… He had others do it for him… Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t have the evidence to prove it. 

Barbara set the pen down when she finished, signing her name at the bottom. “A good, innocent woman taken too soon.” The blonde held a finger under her nose as she blinked away two tears. “I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Jim nodded his head, offering a tissue to Barbara from on top of his desk. “Don’t apologize, it’s completely natural.” He soothed her in the most unattached way that he could.

“Thank you, Jim.” Barbara rose from her chair, padding around her eyes with the tissue. “Put him away for this. She deserved better.” She stated, taking her purse to hang on her shoulder again before walking out of the office without waiting to see if she had to do anything, making her way into the GCPD bullpen. The woman tracked which way the officers were moving, slinking her way back towards a wall with a grin. She tossed out the tissue, slipping into the morgue without issue. She avoided the staff inside, waiting until the room was empty before looking over the drawers in the wall. Where was it… Where was it…? 

The blonde woman read the name tags until she found who she was looking for, pulling out the table and staring at the elderly woman’s body that lay in wait. 

“Rise and shine, sweetie. Time to get to work.” Barbara whispered to herself as she dug into her purse, pulling out a small, black stone. She rolled it around between her fingers with a chuckle, having no issue in grabbing a nearby glove, slipping it over her expensive manicure then pulling back one of the flaps of skin open on the corpse’s chest to shove the rock inside towards her right shoulder. “This is going to be our city by tomorrow.” She checked the clock, waiting patiently. 

Ten minutes passed before the old woman shot up, breathing erratic as she gained track of where she was again. “Next time… you’re the corpse.” Her voice was raspy, the facade of the woman fading away to show a much younger, but just as naked, she-devil laying in place as her body quickly healed itself.

“Mhmm, we’ll see about that. C’mon, there’s a car out back. Oswald’s arrested, now we just have to start picking apart his kingdom and wait for that garden snake to come out of hiding.” Barbara laughed as Tabitha slid her exposed form off the drawer table, shutting it behind her with a shudder.

“I hate the cold…” Demons of any variety were often not fans of more chilly temperatures, preferring to find warmer environments that were more comfortable like their natural homes. Unlike Incubi, devils did not have the same circulatory control, they couldn’t regulate heat in their bodies as they wished, they couldn’t create more heat in any area by will. They were simply warm by birth.

Barb laughed as she took her hand, grabbing a lab coat to throw over the devil before the two slipped towards the back exit door. “Well aren’t you going to be disappointed later? Gotham in winter can get extremely… frigid.” 

 

Jim left his office to walk through the desks the officers had in the bullpen, approaching the caged area where Penguin had finally settled down enough that he was sitting and glaring at the floor. “Oswald. We’ve had a witness come forward.” Oswald hopped from his seat immediately, wobbling over to Jim with some surprise to his face. That had to have been Ed’s doing, someone to say he hadn’t done what people thought he- “And they confirmed that you killed Ms. Elizabeth Landry.”

“ _ **WHAT?!**_ ” Oswald’s hands gripped the bars he was stuck behind, writhing in place as he tried to shake the unmovable bars in front of him. “ **I** didn’t shoot that woman, Jim! I shot a man! I don’t even know that woman!” He claimed with a loud scream. His muscles were strained as he struggled, face tinting red as he shouted inches from Jim Gordon’s face with spit stringing between his teeth. “ **I didn’t SHOOT HER!** ” 

“I know.” 

Oswald immediately froze, eyes locked with Jim’s as he attempted to process the recognition. “What…?”

“What I should say is… I don’t think you shot her either. Or didn’t mean to. It doesn’t make sense.” Jim started, speaking in a low tone so that he wouldn’t be heard easily. 

“Then get me out of here!” Oswald’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, demanding his release from the Commissioner.

Jim simply shook his head, taking a step back from the holding cell. “I can’t do that, Oswald.”

“AND WHY NOT?!”

“The evidence isn’t there!” Jim snapped back, taking a moment to center himself again despite Oswald’s impatience. “So far what we have is that you shot an elderly woman with the intention of killing her. Once we clear up paperwork we’re going to need to take you to Blackgate for the time being. Now, I’m going to keep working this case. If I find nothing else, you will need to live out your designated time and punishment. If you’re telling the truth though there might be a way to claim self-defense.” 

“BLACKGATE?! The Prison?! I’m crazy, Jim! Not a murderer!”

Jim let out a heavy breath, trying to maintain his calm demeanor in the situation. “Arkham went through some… renovations recently, a number of Arkham residents are being held at Blackgate. And considering your violent tendencies and criminal past, we can’t send you to one of the other holding facilities. You’ll be kept with the Arkham patients there. You’ll be kept out of general population, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

Oswald’s snide attitude was brushed off by the Commissioner who shrugged in return. “Sorry, Oswald. Until new evidence surfaces, this is how it has to be. I’ll look this case over front to back, but I can’t promise anything. Get comfortable, someone will be by later to take your information for Blackgate. We’ll probably head over in the morning.”

“See to it that you do, Jim Gordon.” Oswald’s jaw wouldn’t stay still as he thought, the man taking something into consideration before airing his thoughts. “Jim?”

“Yes, Oswald?”

“Call Ed for me? Tell him what’s going on. He’s been at the manor all day, he’s likely worried about my disappearance.” The man behind bars requested, sitting back down on the bench. Ed had to stay informed. He had plenty of men at his disposal, there was no true evidence that the demon was the one at the scene with him. He had plenty of tall men that often made sure he was safe on his journeys about Gotham, there was no telling just who was with him that evening. Right? Or at least he hoped.

 

“Blackgate?”

“Yeah, Arkham’s out of commission so this is what we’ve got.” 

Jim’s voice spoke smoothly into Ed’s ear, the man must have been alone with how casually the conversation was going, though unlike Jim, Ed wasn’t alone. The demon sat in the office while Riddler stood on the other side of Oswald’s desk, glaring at the phone in his other half’s hand. He could hear the conversation loud and clear. And Ed’s waiting and following instructions wasn’t going to do anything. 

_“We need to get him.”_

“Thank you, Jim. For letting me know.” 

“It’s what he asked for.”

_“We are not leaving him in there with those animals and lunatics.”_

“Goodbye Jim.”

“Good luck, Ed.”

_“You’re NOT listening!”_

Ed hung up the phone calmly before his face fell to a frown. “And neither are you!” He shouted at his projected personality, fingers pressed into his temples. “He’s only being held because they think he killed that woman! The men he supposedly killed aren’t there and don’t exist as far as the GCPD know! If we can prove he didn’t mean to kill that woman, that there really were men there to kill him, we may be able to get him out on a better charge. Maybe house arrest as a punishment instead of imprisonment.” 

_“We can also more than easily help him to escape. Have Oswald under our care and protection while we then use the time to clear his innocence of the octogenarian.”_ Riddler argued in return, glaring and pointing an accusing finger at Ed as he spoke. _“Who knows what they do to people in there. And you’re willing to risk his safety to get him out ‘the right way’? There is no guarantee that we will have what the judicial system finds liable in order to have him released or that charge dropped! Meanwhile, we’d already have him here! With **us**! Safe!”_ They didn’t have the time to do this the goody-two-shoes way. They’d dealt with Blackgate-material criminal aftermath before in the forensics room, some were just as, to possibly more, brutal than Oswald. 

As scrappy as Oswald was… There was little confidence in either of their minds that there wasn’t someone in Blackgate who could take down the man. Eventually, one of the many prisoners was going to either get lucky, or have an advantage. Eventually, Oswald wasn’t going to be able to resource his way out of something. He had to be rescued. 

Ed let out a long sigh, rubbing his fingers into his temples as his head began to pound relentlessly. “Fine! Fine. We’ll break him out.” He agreed quickly, grumbling as he got into his other half’s mind set. “We work on this one together though. No _‘one of us in charge’_ plan this time. We both agree, or we don’t do it.” Ed made a deal with Riddler, glaring at his other half across the table. 

Riddler was quiet for a long moment, clearing pondering the offer he was given. _“Deal. Only for him though.”_

“Only for him.” Ed agreed, able to settle with these terms. “We’re going to need help. And a hideout.” 

_“We’re going to need costumes.”_

 

Barbara laughed as she poured herself a drink, clearly having quite the time at the small mixing station she had near her desk. “This is working amazingly so far.” She bragged with a smile. “Penguin is going to go directly to jail. Penguin’s men and his power are going to fade when that asparagus stick can’t keep up with it. Then all of Penguin’s assets are up for grabs!”

Tabitha shook her head with an eye roll, watching the human from her position nearby. “I don’t want them just locked up and sad. The deal was to destroy them. How is this going to destroy them?!” The she-devil questioned, not seeing the end of the plan with this. Her goals were usually much shorter term.

“Tabby, please.” Barb began, taking a sip of her drink to test it before grinning contently, moving to sit on the front of her desk. “Do you not think I’m a woman of my word? I will destroy them, I will make sure they are ruined. The best way to destroy Penguin is emotionally, we’ve been over this. Take away his demon, take away his status, power, and money, and he has nothing. Stick him in a lock up with criminals who have everything while he has nothing? You will destroy him mentally, beyond that it’ll be easy to have inmates kill him during lunch.” The blonde woman took another drink of her liquor mixture of the evening. “Now, I don’t know much about this Edward Nygma, and neither do you. So, if him and Penguin really are in some Love Boat connection, that’s our best known bet to hurt him.”

“And then what?”

Barb scoffed, setting her drink down on the table as she stared the she-devil in the eyes. “And then, obviously, he starts wandering out and about like a lost puppy. He’s going to be wanting Penguin back, if anything, he might even try to get thrown in Blackgate with him, who knows! Whenever he tries anything though, he’ll be vulnerable, weak, open. You can do whatever you want with him.” She brushed off the thought, not caring at all what Tabitha did with Nygma, so long as Penguin was out of her way.

Tabby considered the angle and shook her head. “Fine. We stick with the plan, but if this doesn’t pan out-”

“Oh no, trust me, Sweetie. This is going to work.” Barb promised the other, checking out her nails after buffing them on her jacket. “Don’t worry a hair on your furry little goat legs. This will work. You’ll have that Incubus in your freaky hands and can do away with him and Penguin will probably get shanked by some monstrosity named Bubba that ate his sister in some shack in the deep south. Everyone wins!” Barb smiled widely with her hands posed in the air to accentuate her lovely visual. 

“You better be right about this, human…” 

“Give it a few days. These two will be ready to take out, I promise. I just need you to do one more little, teeny, tiny thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been along with this journey so far. 
> 
> To those who started reading but didn't find it was their thing, Thank you.  
> To those who started reading but got distracted or forgot, Thank you.  
> To those who are saving it for a rainy day, Thank you.  
> To those who are just a couple chapters back, Thank you.  
> To those who are with me soon after updates are added, Thank you.  
> To those who leave comments, Thank you.  
> To those who just enjoy reading, Thank you.  
> To those who've made art, Thank you.  
> To those who's recommended this to others, Thank you.
> 
> To everyone who's experienced this fic in one way or another, whatever it means to you, whatever it's meant to you, whatever it will mean to you... Just... thank you.  
> Thank you for every little way you've ever impacted this story.   
> Knowing it's been looked at by even one person is enough, but the kind of support and love it's gotten along this journey so far...  
> I can't thank you all enough for everything you've given to me, to give to this story.
> 
> No matter what your contribution is to this story, I love, adore, and appreciate you.   
> So thank you, I couldn't have done it without you. <3


	16. Are you there?

Oswald’s eyes were focused on every moving object as he was lead into the Blackgate Penitentiary. Gordon at one side and several officers on the other as well as behind him, while he sported a slick pair of silver colored cuffs with his dishevelled suit. Being locked up overnight did it no favors, and likely he wouldn’t see much of the garment again. “Jim, this is ridiculous. You’d best sort this mess immediately. If I have to stay here, locked up with the lunatics, and the criminally moronic, I am going to kill everyone in here.” 

“It won’t be that bad.” Jim brushed it off, just looking to do his work then get back to solving where these mystery thugs came from. And where the body of the old woman went. It disappeared yesterday at some point and no one knew where it went. Bodies didn’t up and walk away. Normally. Unfortunately, this was Gotham, so who knew any more?

Oswald stopped himself dead, pausing in Jim’s lead. “ARE YOU JOKING?!” He yelled in the Commissioner’s face, his cuffed hands thrown into his body as he took in the statement. “Would you like to trade places, Jim?! If it’s _so_ easy?!”

Jim pulled on Oswald’s arm, leading him forward again towards the jail. “No, I think I’d rather be free on the outside. You realize that with your admittance, you would have still murdered someone?”

Oswald rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, not caring at all for Gordon’s moral high ground. “And you realize there’s little difference between you and I, Jim? We’ve both killed people. The only difference is you have a little piece of metal and an ID that says you’re allowed to kill, but I can’t. I hardly see that as fair. We both kill to protect ourselves and others. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I have to live with who I’ve shot on the job. You don’t care.” Jim clarified for the man who asked, getting them all inside in order to have Oswald registered and accounted for among Arkham’s safe kept patients.

“I’m hurt, Jim, to think I don’t care. I care highly.” Oswald claimed with a huff, giving the Commissioner a grin. “I care very much about who I kill because usually they’re in my way.” He cared to remove them. He cared to get them out of the picture. He cared to get what he wanted that they prevented him from.

“You’re sick, Oswald.”

Oswald shrugged casually as guards took his information, standing on display for the small crowd. “It’s called personality, Jim. Perhaps you should look into getting one sometime.” He replied smugly, feeling something of sass kicking in with his last moments of freedom ticking away.

One officer at the check in chuckled with the back and forth, filling out the paperwork on his end. “Hope you can keep that sense of humor, kid. A place like this will eat it alive.” Oswald merely scowled in response, following where he was lead. 

One room lead to a hall, that lead to a room that connected to another hall. His suit was taken to a storage room, given a uniform with a number to change into, a pleasant soft blue collared shirt that felt like it was starched to the point of breaking as it moved and cheap denim pants that chafed when he walked. He had lived all of his life without needing to wear… jeans. He could have been much happier without knowing how they felt for the rest of his life. And now, unfortunately, they were apart of his everyday wardrobe. Wonderful.

Equipped with sheets, a flat pillow, slip-on shoes, and an empty cup Oswald was lead away from Gordon, taken further into the prison where the Arkham patients were being held. An insane pen. Well… nothing he couldn’t handle. It was only insanity… how bad could it all really be?

“Home sweet, home, hmm?” Oswald questioned the guard who chuckled, shoving the man to continue on towards a larger room ahead, away from Arkham’s mentally unstable. “I think there’s been some misunderstanding.” He stated with a nervous chuckle, his hands now clutching at the pile of items he was given. Still, he was pushed forward. “I should be in there! With them! Hey, are you listening to me?!”

The guard’s hand on his back, guiding him onward through doors convinced him that the man was no longer listening and that there had been a change of plans. As he was put through the double doors, it got the attention of the rows of prisoners already in their cells, levels of convicts on at least three floors all had their focus drawn to the sound of the doors and fresh meat.

“Welcome to general population, Penguin.”

There was a roar from the inmates who could see Penguin, encouraging others to cheer along at having a new toy to play with. As Oswald was escorted to his cell, prisoners locked in on the small statured man with a limp.

“Look at the cripple.”  
“This one won’t be fun at all.”  
“He looks like a bird.”  
“I remember snappin’ my aunt’s bird’s neck once.”  
“You gonna sing for us, Birdie?”  
“Scream! Scream when I break your bones and use your head as a footstool!”

Oswald kept his focus forward, shutting down his emotional responses as he settled on reaching his cell in one piece. He kept away from the cell bars where he could be reached, making it to his space without any physical altercation. The guard pushed him in without care, letting Oswald stumble into the cell, using his bed to stabilize himself. If the metal slab with a thin mattress on it could even be called such.

Something was wrong, but… he had two smart men, or three really, on the outside working to get him out. To have him released of his charges. He wouldn’t be there for long. His crimes against the woman who wasn’t there before would be dropped, he would’ve been found defending himself, things would be fine. Eventually.

Oswald followed the prisoner’s schedules, joining them for lunch in the afternoon were his food was taken from him. Where he was shoved out of his seats and made to stand by other inmates. Where standing made him the target of a number of thrown food-like objects but nothing being offered there seemed very edible to Oswald. Edible. Ed. A long breath left him, using the distraction of the demon to ignore the grainy potatoes that stuck to his cheek. 

He knew the demon was working to get him free, he had to be. He trusted Ed and Riddler. So long as they weren’t apprehended, and ran like he told them to, they should be free to clear him of this. He saw how Jim and Ed were with the bodies on his lawn… and they had worked together for some time. No doubt the two of them could inspire each other to his release from captivity.

After lunch Oswald sat on his _‘bed’_ , putting his forehead in his hands with a heavy sigh. This couldn’t be happening… Not to him. He had no power in the prison, no one listened to him. He had to show the ingrates of the building who was the boss of their cage. That HE was in charge. If he could find favor with a well-to-do crew, then he’d have the support needed to begin building. He’d remake his empire in the prison, he’d make a copy of the ones that followed his leadership. It would be easy. He could rule that prison just like he ruled Gotham.

Unfortunately, not everyone shared Oswald’s vision.

He was on the ground by free time, curled up on his side, watching as the guards did nothing about the men kicking him in the stomach, back, and so far… his better leg. Dirt in his eyes, a rock in his mouth, bruises forming, and an overwhelming sense of tenderness was how he was left several minutes later, the guards only then stepping in to aggressively haul him away to his cell, less than cared for by anyone in the building.

By dinner Oswald wanted to stay in his cell, though the guards and their batons had something to say about that. He got several hits in the back and ribs with the individual control device, shuffling his feet in the direction he was being beaten. 

He wasn’t allowed to eat again as far as the other prisoners were concerned, the group of them stealing whatever Oswald had down to his carrying tray. Forced to stand in the corner as target practice, it at least gave the man something to snack on when they weren’t looking as much, letting Oswald sneak in bites to keep himself going.

In his cell that night wasn’t much different, having peace for a few minutes after lights out before guards snuck their way in, holding the man down in pairs to allow a third guard to beat him as they pleased. No one took Oswald to the infirmary because no one cared. He was left in his cell for the rest of the night, left alone to sniffle in the dark, pain throughout his body at the full day of _‘corrective lessons’_. 

Day two proved no different. 

The crime boss woke up to a baton swung with force into his already sore ribs, being screamed at to get up for a breakfast he wouldn’t get to have. Returning to his cell alone, only to have loose inmates pacing outside in the hall. Lunch was another opportunity for bullying, shoved around by several large men and only able to get two small bites of crushed muffin. Or what seemed like muffin… Only to then be forced down in the middle of the yard at break time by a man’s fist colliding with his face. A foodless dinner after, followed by a nightly beating.

The Warden grinned as his staff reported to him on their progress with Penguin so far, relaying every beating they witnessed and the plans for the next day. The Warden had been promised several things for making every available moment to Oswald ‘Penguin’ Cobblepot a living nightmare, and he was just getting started. Between the prisoners he could take years off of sentences or guards he could pay off, his ability to get anyone after the limping criminal was strong. He’d fulfill his end of the bargain in no time.

 

The next day a transfer bus rolled in, three prisoners walked in by ten guards, being checked in like everyone else would. They got their personal items removed, prison items handed out, then guided to a cell in the main room, causing just as much of a stir as when Oswald arrived. The wounded man could see the prisoners being escorted by his cell, blinking heavily and rubbing his eyes when a tall figure with dark hair passed his cell bars. 

Nooo… he was imagining things. He was too sore to run to the bars to check, staying on the bed as he rested while he could. 

Oswald’s skin was swollen or interestingly colored in almost every area. His lower lip had several scabbed strips where it had split open, cheek swollen and cut from punching and some guard’s ring. One of his eyes nearly swollen shut, a cut through his eyebrow, and a darkened purple encompassing the skin. His ribs were bruised and swollen, it hurt to breathe, his arms were sore to move, his already tender joints screamed when he shifted. His wrists and legs at this point bruised with how often he was held solidly in place for his beatings. Nothing about him was okay. 

At breakfast Oswald moved immediately from the entrance of the cafeteria to the corner, waiting his punishment for something he wasn’t sure if he did or not. He ignored the tall figure on the other side of the room, thinking himself to be imagining things at this point. That or he was seeing things like Ed and Riddler did with each other. Maybe that was it, good old, reliable crazy. Nothing more.

He went back to his cell when first able, hiding away while the animals watched him from outside in the halls. Lunch gave him nothing but half a handful of old macaroni, the yard left him wheezing on the ground, several prisoners scattering away when a gun went off to have them retreat. Oswald still made his way back to his cell. He continued to carry on because he knew he had people working to get him out. It would happen. He’d be able to leave… eventually… 

Dinner showed the tall figure in the corner of his eye again and a prisoner’s poor aim gave him part of a soggy roll off the floor, but at this point he was desperate to give his body anything to physically feed from. He felt more full, emotionally, his spirit found easier to keep up when he knew souls must have transferred to him at some point in the day. His people were still being paid, so he was still getting something from them, he was still getting his demons’ souls. So his business had to have still been running, even with him gone. That had to have been either of the Eds, or Victor. They would keep things alive for him. They were loyal.

At night he awaited the guards, staying awake to listen for their approach. His shirt was off, in the tank top given to wear beneath it with his collared shirt stuffed underneath the white garment. Anything for cushioning against the batons. His cell door slid open that night and he didn’t remember a lot after that. He heard his name. He heard his name spoken in such a sweet way. In a voice he felt like he hadn’t heard in months. Delicate hands on his face. Gentle, gingerly touching. He felt affection and kisses on his face, fingers over the exposed old scars the tank shown as well as the new bruises. Eyes staring into his, eyes through the dim lighting. Eyes that were close from him being held.

The morning brought Oswald awake again to the new world he lived in, looking around in confusion and feeling the aftermath of a new beating. He must have blacked out or something… The man was a mess, unable to prevent the bubbling sob that shook his body with pain emotionally and physically. Just a dream… It was just a dream… 

The more he considered it, the more he wasn’t sure if he was imagining a lover with him last night over another beating or not. Someone being there felt real enough… however, the new welts on his body and the leftover damage told him it was nothing but a concocted scene to rewrite what actually happened. His mind trying to save him from the trauma by putting him anywhere else. And where better than Ed or Riddler’s hold…? Even so… it would be better to live through the trauma. 

It would be better than the heartbreak of realizing the demon wasn’t actually around. 

Oswald looked around that morning at breakfast, and break. At lunch and in the yard. At dinner and while the guards did their rounds. Nothing.

No familiar tall man with dark hair in sight. No familiar glasses, no recognizable smile or smirk. No catchable long legs. No irresistible stare… Nothing. No anything. He was seeing things yesterday… 

So… this was how the fiend felt.

Oswald closed his eyes when the lights went out on Day 4. He let the tears run slowly from his eyes, curled up on his least sore side with shirt stuffed under his tank again.

That night, like the last, he heard his name. He felt hands over his shoulders, kisses on the back of his neck, a hand that moved to hold his own. Oswald’s brow furrowed, eyes squeezed tightly closed as he tried to wish away the feelings, to push out the false thoughts. He pulled his hand back against his chest, denying the phantom hands that tried to touch him. “Go away… I know you’re not real. Leave. Leave me alone. Leave me to my sorrows.” He spoke aloud to his head, hands squeezed together against his chest.

And like that, the hands were gone. The ghostly feeling of having someone who cared around him had left. It was only getting his hopes up. It was lulling him into false securities he wanted but didn’t need. He had to stay alert. He couldn’t let what happened last night happen again. He had to know what was really happening. He had gone from eight days with little sleep and sustenance, into almost two full days well cared for, only to then drop into another four with nearly nothing and great physical trauma.

He was in no condition to think he was in a sane place at the moment. Along with that woman he absolutely swore wasn’t there before… maybe he was going crazy…

Oswald fell asleep at one point in the night, stirring when careful fingers brushed along his arm. When a hand stroked over a swollen cheek, using ginger soft knuckles to caress the skin. His eyes barely opened, squinting through his blurred and waking vision at the officer’s figure that stood above him. Oswald felt the tender hand and recoiled towards the wall of his cell, feeling a panic spring into his chest, waking him up immediately. “No…! Get back…! I’m warning you…!” Not that he had the energy to really fight off anyone, but at the moment he felt he had at least a few lucky shots in him.

“Oswald, relax.”

“No! I know what you’re doing! Beat me if you wish, but that isn-”

“Oswald, no…! Shhhh. Stop, it’s me.” The officer removed his hat, that coiffed hair pushed back so neatly on a tall frame bringing back tears to Oswald’s eyes.

“No… you’re just an illusion.” He whined, voice wavering as he tried to shoo away the feeling like he had before. “Leave me alone. You’re not here…! Leave me to suffer on my own, please…!”

“Oswald, I’m here. _We’re_ here. This isn’t a trick of the mind.” The familiar voice was smooth and low, in a whisper as the body crouched by the bed Oswald had, eyes staring at the hurt man before them. “What do I need to do to prove my existence to you?”

Oswald used shaking fingers to wipe away his tears, not trusting the figure at this point. “No…! You aren’t real. You aren’t here…!”

“Oz… what have they done to you…?” 

“Leave me alone!”

The body stood upright again, walking to the front of the cell to look through the bars, shedding layer after layer, tossing what was on it to the side over the broken sink Oswald had. 

“Stop! I know what’s happening!”

“I don’t believe you do.”

Oswald stared as the tall, human form morphed into something else. Large wings that touched the floor from the shoulders, horns protruding from the head, long claws, and a thick tail that drug on the floor as it walked back to Oswald. The imposing figure made the man choke out a hiccup, his saddened expression loosened with a hopeful smile. “Edward…?”

“Close enough.” The demonic body crawled onto the bed, making it creak under its added weight, approaching the man with hand extended. “Come here, Oz. I promise you, I’m real. I’ll make you a deal, you come to me and I will leave you with proof I was here. Does that sound fair?”

Oswald took the offer into consideration. Real or not, his mind was already convincing himself that this was his Edward. So the man nodded, believing that at worst he’d mentally finally have a wonderful night. So the bruised and beaten man took the offered hand, sitting in the lap of the demon that invited him in. His legs were wrapped around the body’s hips, feet resting underneath a tail that wrapped around both of their bodies carefully.

Riddler wasn’t going to deny it this time. He had to follow an instinct, if only once for Oswald. As much as he didn’t want to use the cocoon, to avoid the emotional entanglement… He could see how hurt the human was both mentally and physically, emotionally he was likely a wreck as well. The odds simply were in favor of that. For the man he felt interest for… it was worth the risk of further attachment he wasn’t prepared to have.

He could feel the weight of the tail on his good leg, its soft pressure against his sore sides, but at the moment he could care less. Wings stretched out around them, completely blocking them inside and away from the prison around them. The demon studied Oswald in front of him, frowning as he took in the damage. He didn’t need to ask who’d done it, he knew. The prisoners, the staff. Everyone was in on it. And it made him angry. The fiend’s chest heated aggressively, popping strongly as he brushed studying fingers over facial wounds. 

_“You need to stay calm for him.”_ Ed’s voice softly spoke into Riddler’s head, being the stability and reason at the moment. _“He needs us right now. You saw him. His reactions. If you’re going to do this, pull it back.”_

Riddler took in a long inhale of air, unable to let go of the resentment he had towards the others, but Ed wasn’t incorrect. “I know.”

“You know?”

“Sorry, I was talking to _him_.” 

Oswald’s shoulders sank with the comment, seeming to relax more with the knowledge that Ed was around. Or that someone knew of Ed when he wasn’t around. “...Riddler… can I feed you?”

The question inspired a turn of emotion in the demon, his powerful popping turning into soft crackling. Oswald wanted to give him souls in the cocoon… Out of most bonding moments, this was a large one for them. And in an emotionally sensitive space… “Yes, you can.”

Oswald’s hands lifted to hold the demon’s face, taking in the texture of his skin. It felt like warm marble, surface so smooth it almost didn’t seem real. However, it was pleasing to touch. His fingers and hands trembled slightly, clutching onto the face he held in attempts to steady them. His blood sugar was low, his energy was gone, his body ached… he had no reason to feel stable. Until now. Until now when he had his support again. Without thinking, Oswald’s tongue brushed his own lower lip, feeling how rough and dry it was. This wouldn’t be the most pleasant, but he needed this… 

Riddler let Oswald approach him, the demon meeting the kiss when it was placed against his mouth. He didn’t like sensitive situations… the feelings, the emotions… it wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t natural to him. And this was an extremely emotional and sensitive situation. In an extremely emotional and sensitive bonding moment… 

_“Oz needs the strength, don’t back out on him now.”_ Ed’s voice continued to instruct, acting as the balance as he couldn’t be of any other help with them wrapped up literally with each other. _“Have your mental breakdown that emotions are weak, later. If you fail him because you can’t express a bit of loving attitude, rest assured I’m taking over. And you don’t want me pretending to be an officer in here.”_

Which Riddler could agree on that. It was one reason why he took on the character to begin with. He had the bravado and the standoff personality to be an uncaring guard looking to tease and bully inmates. Ed had a difficult time maintaining composure under certain pressures, which was where he came in. This was his element. Sneaking into a secure building and impersonating someone was something he was born to do. He could do his duties as a corrupt guard and walk away from Oswald getting roughed up. Only because he had to. Only because Ed was yelling in his head to help.

His other half wasn’t strong enough, but he could be. He had to. They couldn’t ruin their cover the moment they were given the opportunity. He did fire his given gun at one point to break up the fighting, unable to let it continue every time into dangerous territory. And honestly, he hadn’t been sure if Oswald was still conscious. 

The Incubus took in the kissing with an awareness of his claws around Oswald’s face, fingers finding the human’s hair to smooth it down where possible. It was flipping in many directions, less than taken care of in the man’s state. Not that Oswald could really be blamed. The end of the demon’s tail moved slowly back and forth, brushing over the man’s spine tenderly. 

Oswald could take some comfort in the fact that he was no longer alone. Or imagining if Ed or Riddler was there or not. He wasn’t even entirely positive if the other interactions were actually in his head… If this wasn’t real, he could cry. If this wasn’t real it was the most cruel joke his mind could play on him, but at the moment he’d take it. It was the kindest touch he’d felt in days… It felt like cold water softly running over a burn. It was relief to something so painful, so awful. The demon’s kiss… Riddler’s affections, they were the cold water he needed.

The man might have been resilient, but he wasn’t unbreakable.   
Everyone had their point. 

Oswald pressed into the kiss, unable to help his slight recoil when his lip split open again from the movement and effort, but he continued the contact regardless. What was a little blood between lovers? He had sampled the demon’s, so what difference did it make if it went the other way around? His hands stroked up the fiend’s cheekbones to his temples, fingers taking in the ribbing of the horns that protruded from Riddler’s forehead. His thumbs skipped over each ridge as lips parted, Oswald making it clear what stage of this he was at.

The human took hold of the ends of the horns in his hands, pulling back Riddler’s head and breaking their kiss with a grin. He hadn’t had control in some time now… unable to help what was happening around him. Now though, he could be in control. Have whatever he wanted. He knew Riddler would listen to him, despite any desired rebellion.

The Incubus chuckled at the leadership the human took, letting Oswald direct him whatever way he wanted. “You think you’re still the boss, hmm? How cute.” 

Rebellion. He knew it. “Even imprisoned and beaten, I’m still your boss. We made a deal, remember?”

“Of course I remember, I never forget anything.”

“Then remember this,” Oswald began, keeping Riddler’s head pulled back, not feeling the other fighting his grip or positioning at all. “As your superior I demand you get me out of here immediately. I shouldn’t even be with these psychopaths, I should be with the lunatics.” He used his position on Riddler’s lap to his advantage, leaning down over the other’s face. “Do I make myself clear?”

Riddler merely smiled contently, like a lazy cat with a malicious plan. “Crystal clear.” 

“Good. And I assume you’ve taken care of my business so far?” The human questioned, so close to the demon still that his breath danced over Riddler’s mouth. 

The fiend snaked out his tongue, licking over the damage on Oswald’s lower lip with interest, looking to tease the situation. “Ed and I left a detailed list of steps for Zsasz and the men to take in order to continue everything just as you had it.”

“And it’s scheduled?”

“Color coded and scheduled to the minute.”

Oswald chuckled softly, still holding onto the horns, but his thumbs casually ran over the ridges on either side. “Then I think you’ve earned your feeding.” It felt good to be in power again, if only for a moment it gave him something to pursue. He had the choice of what happened to him, he wasn’t at the mercy of attackers. He decided what happened, and losing that control was something he hated so deeply. With either side of the demon around him, even in the hell that was Blackgate, he had a large say in what happened. 

Lips met again, Oswald hovering slightly above Riddler, the man not having noticed that he wasn’t the one holding himself up at the moment. The thick, muscled tail that wrapped around them adjusted when Oswald had sat up, holding on again when he’d chosen his new positioning. The Incubus was willing to give the man whatever he wanted, whatever made him happy.

One of Oswald’s hands clutched at Riddler’s slicked back hair from behind, the nails of his other hand clicking over the texture of the demon’s horn. The man’s lips parted, Riddler copying the actions and breathing in deeply to draw from what souls the human had still come into possession of. It felt good to feed from Oswald again. Admittedly, his breath could be a little better, but the prison likely didn’t care about the quality of the toothpaste they had. Still, a tongue made home in a mouth that wasn’t its own, greeting the other occupant as what seemed like the souls of at least partially tainted or corrupt people passed over tastebuds. 

The fiend’s hands slipped down the man’s body, finding a place to hide themselves under Oswald’s stuffed tanktop, pulling out the shirt to better be able to feel the skin underneath. Swollen areas of skin, goose eggs under skin that no doubt were painted every dark color imaginable. As Riddler took in the souls, devoured several before drinking in what he could keep in reserve, he pushed his circulation to run faster. His chest a carnival of activity and energy, crackling like the sparklers from a firework which made his body feel like it was burning and it was the most comfortable and at home he’d felt in some time. He used his body’s power to move the heat around, hot hands soothing sore ribs, warm sides toasting tender legs, a radiating tail to help sore hips, and heated wings to close in a relaxing environment for the rest of the sore body.

Oswald could relax in a cage like this. Unlike the cell he was in that caused his paranoia to increase and his anxiety of what was yet to come to rise, this was a cramped space he could get used to. To find comfort in, even. This place, in the demon’s hold, in his hands, surrounded by his wings… this place felt safe. His arms began to rest on Riddler’s shoulders, elbows sat over the fiend’s pronounced trapezius muscles with his hands now both at the back of Riddler’s head. His fingers running on subconscious thought as he played with and tugged at the tail of hair that was the end of his partner’s slickback do. 

It was just so easy to grab.

When the fiend had his fill he retracted his tongue as he instead kissed over the abused lower lip Oswald had, hands brushing over the human’s ribs carefully. He was halfway certain two of them were fractured at the least, but more likely broken, not wishing to push against the skin in case he caused more damage. No one seemed to care that Oswald was in such disrepair… The prison probably had worse prisoners treated much better.

“Oswald…” Riddler began, speaking against the mouth of the human he refused to let go of. “Tomorrow… you’re going to make a friend.” 

Oswald’s brows settled lower as he took in the sentence, eyes peeking open at the creature beneath him. “I don’t need friends… I need you.” 

Riddler felt a sick turning in his stomach at the claim, exposed abdomen clenching as the words settled into his head. _“Don’t. That’s not even me. That’s all you.”_ The other personality claimed, not about to get blamed for something he wasn’t starting. They were working together after all! The fighting and arguing had to wait. _“You’re the strong one, face this.”_

“And…” What did he even say to that?

_“Keep going. Stick to the plan. You’re good at that. Make a plan, follow it.”_

Riddler composed himself, ignoring what felt like a brick sitting in his guts. “And I will be around for you, but I came here under a false name and intention. I’m currently _‘working’_ as a guard in order for us to find the most efficient way to break you out of this torture chamber. That does mean I have shifts and orders to follow to maintain my ruse. You need someone who isn’t tied to that. You need people on both sides.”

Oswald scowled, resting his forehead against Riddler’s while his hands still found comfort in toying with the fiend’s hair. “And who do you suggest I befriend?”

Riddler could feel the brick getting heavier, swallowing thickly as he dealt with the emotional weight that came with the bonding position and the man’s words. “I will befriend someone in your name. Hire a bodyguard, if you will. I’ve seen the records, there’s someone in here that I believe you’d be able to talk to better than anyone else in this prison. He’s slightly… eccentric.” 

Oswald stared the short distance into Riddler’s eyes, the frame of the demon’s glasses digging into the bridge of his nose, but he really didn’t care. He’d suffered with enough pain at that point, some mild discomfort wasn’t going to stop him. “Who is he?”

“You’ll know when you see him. I’ll speak with him tomorrow morning at the end of my shift. He normally doesn’t eat with the others at meal times, so he will likely see you at the outdoor break.” Riddler informed the man, moving his tail to let Oswald slide back into his lap safely. 

“I trust you will then.” Oswald allowed, finally settling his hands to fall behind Riddler as his eyes drifted closed. “I trust you. I trust you both.”

_“We’ll get him his guardian. We just need something worth offering.”_ The friend needed a reason to help Oswald, they had no attachments to each other, so this man would likely require some bargaining. At least as an officer of the prison he had ways of getting around things that prisoners normally couldn’t. 

Oswald’s voice cut through the fiend’s deliberation, it sounding tired and heavy. “Can you stay?”

Riddler shook his head. “Not for the entirety of the night, no. I will need to leave shortly.” He could tell by the man’s sigh alone that the short stay wasn’t enough. “I can stay until you fall asleep, after that I must go.” 

“If you must.” 

“And I must.”

“You said you would leave me with proof that you’d been here. That this isn’t more of me imagining that you’ve come to visit. How?” Oswald questioned, one of his eyes cracking open enough to make eye contact with the demon, not about to be left with nothing and more questions than answers. He wanted proof. He needed it. 

_“That you’re considering doing this is bold of you.”_ Ed commented from outside the wings, knowing what his more cruel half was thinking. 

“It is simple.” Riddler commented at first, using a hand to hold Oswald’s arm, moving the limb where he could better get to it. “I’m going to mark you. When you wake up it will still be there, and you will have the evidence that you need that none of this was a figment of your imagination.” He offered as the answer for Oswald’s worries, placing the arm with wrist facing upwards in front of his chin, the demon able to place small kisses in the area the marking would go.

The mark. The possession marking, the one Riddler gave him before for their meeting. He understood part of the sentiment behind the marking now and it… that he’d offer this to him… “Please do, I will take it.” Oswald agreed to the idea quickly, feeling that he didn’t need to be as guarded about markings at the moment. It’d look like another one of his odd bruises, it wouldn’t be an issue.

For the second time Oswald was able to witness Riddler claiming his wrist with the possessive fiend marking. His eyes hardly took in how his skin was sucked on, how everything went from clear to darkened maroon and purple broken blood vessels under the surface of the epidermis. He began to nod off before the tongue coated in thick, dark liquid stroked over his wrist and the bruising, asleep in the fiend’s encompassing hold before the line was established.

 

Oswald woke alone the next morning to the sound of shouting, the guards rousing every prisoner to get ready for breakfast as they normally did. He glanced around quickly, rubbing his eyes to clear away the sleep so he could observe the broken sink clear of any garments across from him. He didn’t say goodbye, or at least… maybe he didn’t. If it even happened. Last night felt like an old memory in his head, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. It had better not have been a distorted thought… He couldn’t handle it if it was. It had felt… so, so real. His hand slipped to his forehead, eyes opening to stare between his forearms. 

And out of the corner of his eye he could spot it. 

Oswald smiled naturally for the first time in five days, taking in the splotched marking on his wrist and the stained black that was sunk into his skin. The breath that escaped him was rushed, coming out almost as a cough while his smile held strong. He was there. Riddler and Ed, they had visited him that night. They were really there. Either that or his visual projection was getting as good as Edward’s seemed. This was real though, he knew it was. It was the proof that he wasn’t dreaming. The man clutched the marking against his chest.

Which only reminded him of two things. The first being that the fiend was now _‘working’_ at the prison, he was going to be somewhere among the staff at times. And secondly… he had a friend to meet that day.

And he could only imagine what the Incubus meant by _‘friend’_.

 

Oswald managed his way through breakfast, receiving the usual treatment. The same prisoners were outside his cell after that. At lunch he grabbed a few scoopings of what was some sort of lumpy tapioca pudding off his shoulder, feeling anxious when it came to time in the yard. This was a usual beating time, and this would just be another day if it continued.

“You missed lunch today, Penguin?” A voice behind the tired man questioned. “How ‘bout I give you a knuckle sandwich?”

Penguin closed his eyes, feeling a little more invigorated after Riddler and Ed’s visit the last night. He turned to face the group of four convicts, feeling partial dread in his stomach, but his energy was somewhat back. “I think you need to change your menu. If you keep serving the same thing, people will get bored. That’s bad business.” Oswald informed the man threatening to beat him, having just enough left for some sass.

“Look at this fellas, Penguin got some kick back.” A second convict chuckled, eyeing the smaller man in front of them. “All that kick and he’s still got a shitty leg. Why don’t we just take it out from under him?” He questioned with a wicked smirk.

The threat had Oswald hobbling back a couple steps, still not thrilled with the idea of anyone crippling his leg further. “I assure you, my leg has no connection with my attitude.” He promised them, taking another step back as the men began to walk forward.

“I dunno, sounds like a good idea to try.” A third man stated, jumping forward only to have Oswald hop off his good leg out of the way, arms thrown above his head with the action. “Get back here, you freak!” He growled, repositioning himself as he and the other three prisoners began to chase after Oswald. The in-shape convicts had no issue catching the hobbling man, pinning Oswald down so each of them could grab a limb. 

“Wonder what’ll happen if I twist this a bit?” The second man questioned, holding the prized injured leg, keeping the ankle in his grip steady to turn the leg outwards more than it wanted to naturally. Oswald had to restrain a yell, gurgling in his throat at the discomfort in his knee at the motion. 

The convicts got another good twist in before a shadow was cast over Oswald’s face, encouraging the man to open his eyes the moment before he was dropped to the ground, hitting his tailbone off the dirt beneath him. He groaned in pain, rolling over onto his stomach with his eyes clenched shut. Why’d he have to be in constant pain…? Why was this the result…? What did _any_ of these people have against him?!

Oswald half lifted himself onto his good knee, his poor one floating above the ground while his hands worked with the better, lower appendage to keep him off the hard surface. He panted as he sorted himself, freezing when air brushed beyond his face, moving towards his forehead before it was all blown back on him in a hot breath.

**“You.”**

Oswald’s fingers clenched the ground, not wanting to move or see who it was that was speaking to him. The voice was full of gravel, it was dangerous, deep. The shadow was cast over him again and the figure was huge.

**“You’re Oswald.”**

Oswald swallowed thickly, letting go of a shaking breath to face what most certainly sounded like his doom. His head lifted to see scaly feet by his hands with long, thick nails that resembled claws nearly curled to touch the ground. A pair of jeans covered long legs, calves could almost be the size of watermelons… Oswald took the chance to look further up, caught off guard by the man… beast… creature that stood before him. The man took shaken steps to stand on his own feet, faltering when his twisted leg touched the ground, nearly falling if not for the hand that easily encased his bicep with room to spare.

Matching nails to the toes at the ends of thick fingers, scaled skin over swollen muscles towered above Oswald. It all lead to a hunched upper frame. If he curled into a ball he might be the size of the creature’s shoulders and chest. A reptilian-appearing face complete with crocodile-like teeth across an extended jaw, a human enough shaped nose, a heavy scaley brow, and small yellow eyes with a black slit down the center of either topped off the creature.

**“You are Oswald. You’re the new friend.”**

Friend. How in God’s name did Riddler manage this? “Uh… yes…! New friend. I am Oswald Cobblepot, and you are…?”

**“Killer Croc.”**

Oswald nodded at the name, holding in a breath he wasn’t realizing his lungs maintained. “Okay. That would make sense, I suppose. Do you have a name though, not just a moniker? I am also called Penguin, but my name is Oswald.” He explained, wondering what could set off the seven foot two inch behemoth that could result in his instant death.

**“Waylon Jones.”**

“Alright, I can work with that. If that is perfectly acceptable to you, I would appreciate calling you Waylon.” The creature growled back with a nod of his head, taking the name from the man he was told to look after. “How, may I ask, did my friend manage to convince you to help?”

**“I get to eat a couple guards.”**

The long smile on Waylon’s fanged maw said it all, the creature quite pleased to be able to dine on guards as a snack. “And… you aren’t… a demon or something, perchance, are you?”

**“I’m a man.”**

“A well-fed one, I suppose.” Oswald took in the monstrosity from his viewpoint, able to admit that Riddler had acquired one hell of a choice of friend to make for him. “Well, Waylon, I appreciate your help in this matter. With you, I believe we can make a few changes to my situation in here. And in turn… maybe I can sweeten your deal more than simply eating a few guards.” 

**“I’m listening.”**

“If all goes as my friend plans, I am going to be escaping from this prison eventually. How would you like to join my employment and escape with us? You may choose your compensation and your preferred living space.” Oswald, forever a businessman, wanted the brute creature on his side. If this was something Blackgate was harboring, he needed him. And having someone like Waylon on hand could make quite the difference in a situation. The crocodilian man thought on it for a moment, leaning down to sniff at Oswald again.

**“You are not afraid?”**

“I can assure you I am quite shaken by your stature, but afraid of you? No. I see an opportunity before me, a strong man who can likely get things done by many means. If you are swayed by eating authority you oppose, who am I to judge?” Oswald questioned. Now that he knew devils and demons existed, that he’d seen Edward and Tabitha in their true forms, seeing a large crocodile man was honestly not the oddest thing he’d taken in. After the shock of his height and size wore off, he could be accepted. “I can tell you, I can make a pretty reasonable roast out of even the most spoiled elitist snob.” 

**“You can cook people?”**

Oswald chuckled as Waylon’s question could be heard as somewhat curious in tone. “I can. I admit, my butchery skills could likely use some work, but I haven’t had the opportunity to make people into food items frequently. My step-sister was certainly the most tender of the cuts I’d made, the knife went through her like butter. Taste was somewhat off, but I’ll blame that on not having the time to properly marinade her first.”

Oswald’s recollection of brutality and tested cannibalism had Waylon’s attention, the beastial man lowering his head to Oswald’s level with interest. 

**“I like you, you’ve got chops.”**

The shorter man could predict that his stay in the prison was going to be much more different now. Now he had a guard dog. Now he had power. And the last thing any of his abusers would want is that. “Waylon, my new friend, what’s say you and I make the best of our situations?” 

Now he would be the one who was feared.   
Now the other prisoners would avoid him.   
Now there was little stopping him.


	17. Child Protective Services

Riddler could only hope that his plan paid off with Killer Croc, as the creature was known. The man was an absolute beast and a wall of muscle. Not perfectly bright, but that would make Oswald a good balance for him. His partner could keep Croc focused on a goal and a plan, Croc would give Oswald the muscle and protection he’d need to heal before the breakout. It gave Oswald a bubble, in most situations in the prison at least. It would help cut down on the attempted beatings.

So was he surprised when he was called in early to his new job because Croc was causing issues among the inmates, maiming several prisoners and had sent another four to the infirmary in critical condition? Not in the slightest. In fact, it was what he was counting on. That meant it was working.

Pairing them together was dangerous, and it was going to send the jail into a panic to find a way around the two now working together. He could only hope Oswald stayed on Croc’s good side and that they would hit it off well.

To be fair to the plan, it was Ed that got Croc’s attention in the first place, switching places had been beneficial that the softer side approached the beast with an open mind. He gotten spooked a couple times, but at least the beastial man had found it amusing. 

Riddler got his uniform on at 5pm, putting on his nametag and took his ID with him as he left the manor to get into his car, driving it out to Blackgate Penitentiary. The man had his hair slicked back under his hat, his buttoned shirt done up to the collar, black tie knotted perfectly with his jacket over top. With every accessory professionally in place he walked inside the prison, doing every check necessary to get to the main office where duties and jobs were posted. In there was his superior officer, clipboard in hand as he walked over to the interloper no one knew they had in their midst. 

“Nashton, good you’re here. We’ve had a couple of our guys receive serious injuries from Croc in the last few hours. One of ours was trying to give Cobblepot his evening’s beatings and Croc wasn’t having any of it. So, Jenkins has less of a hand right now and a few deep gashes. Kelley only got three fractured ribs, but he’ll be out for a while.” The captain reported to the newer recruit. “So, keep your eye on those two, we’re trying to separate them more now at least for the evening, but we only just got Croc in his cell fifteen minutes ago. If you could deliver his dinner, that’d be great. I’m going to see if Hennessy is free to kick around Cobblepot a bit later.” 

“Then what? Patrol as usual?”

“Patrol as usual.” 

“I can do that, Sir.” Riddler agreed, turning to leave to fulfill his duties. Hennessy, hmm? Well, he’d see what he could do about that.

 

Riddler walked by Croc’s cell, letting go of a long breath. Hopefully he wouldn’t have his head taken off his shoulders. They were features he was quite fond of, the ligaments, muscles, and skin between those two areas.

_“He has reason, you know, speak to him like a person.”_

Riddler rolled his eyes at the advice, seeing Ed in his own attire only a cell down from where he stood. “Is that why you’re all the way down there?”

_“This is a new sweater, I’m not about to get your blood on it when this goes sideways.”_ Ed replied smugly, putting his hands in his pockets as he waited to see what would happen to his other half with Killer Croc. 

“I hate you… so much, Eddie. Did you know that?”  
 _“You know, sharing a brain does make it pretty easy to figure out, yeah.”_  
“Oswald better know how much I… appreciate him, risking this roguishly handsome face…”   
_“You mean, how much you like him?”_  
“You like him too.”  
 _“Yes, but I can say it without fighting it like a child in grade school denying cooties.”_

**“Who’s there?”**

Riddler cringed at the voice, it grating on his ears a bit as he stood by the door with a large cooking pot at his side. “I brought you food, big fella. It’s your pal, remember? The one who sent you for Oswald?” The hall was quiet for a long moment, the cell appearing empty until an oversized figure filled Riddler’s sight with a snarl and an extended claw. Riddler stumbled back at the sudden appearance, startled by Waylon’s jumpscare. 

**“You are friend? You look like friend, don’t smell like friend. Friend had lots of fear.”**

Riddler rolled his eyes with a scowl. “That is a mildly disturbing thought. What can I say? I got brave.” He brushed off, addressing his plan regardless. “I heard of the chaos from this afternoon, so I assume that you found Oswald without difficulty. Is he okay?”

**“Oswald is good as he was.”**

“So this is working, excellent.” Riddler moved the cook pot closer to the cell, ready to give Croc his meal. “Expect a guard tonight. Any regulars you want on the menu?” He questioned, dragging the pot in front of the door, unlocking a hatch to get a bin to swing open to his side.

**“James. Hennessy. Douglas.”**

“Well now, isn’t that convenient?” Riddler pulled the skinned, headless animal corpse from the pot, setting it in the bin to push to Croc’s side. “I will hand deliver a Hennessy to you in less than an hour. You can hide a body, right big guy?”

There was an aggressive hit to the door that was followed by a sickening crunch filled with the sound of wet meat and breaking bones. The grinding sound making Riddler’s skin crawl for a moment. 

**“Hide in pieces.”**

The demon shrugged, taking the cooking pot with him to return to the kitchen. “That works perfectly for me. As long as he isn’t identifiable, which I will entirely trust you will take care of in your own… creative way.” He strolled away from the cell for Croc, dropping off the pot at the kitchen before hopping double time to the cells. 

 

Oswald sat on the bed in his cell, head turned to the halls when the general lights dimmed, putting them into _‘Lights Out’_ for the night. He had no Croc at that point, but he’d seen what the monstrous man had done to the couple guards who attempted to get near him. He loved having the bodyguard and the protection. It made him feel powerful again. Dinner had been much more peaceful, he had personal silence to eat on his own now that others were aware that Waylon was on his side.

This changed everything.

“Hey Cobblepot. Where’s your dog?”

The man’s eyes focused on the floor, forearms resting on his thighs as he sat forward. Oswald grinned to himself, shrugging a shoulder. “Must be back in his kennel.” He commented simply with his hand raised to chest level, cuticles under his inspection. He cleared off a bit of dirt, only able to do so much, but he felt much more comfortable now with his brand new friend.

“Looks like I got picked for your visitation tonight.” Hennessy grinned as he took out his collapsible baton, unlocking the cell door to slip inside. “Which is great, missed my gym routine this afternoon with Croc’s interruption.”

Oswald sat up straighter, hands on his knees as he let go of a long breath. “It appears as though you’re going to miss out on a lot more than that. If you have a family at all, I hope you’ve said goodbye to them today.”

Hennessy’s eyes squinted at the prisoner, approaching Oswald quickly. “Are you threatening me, jailbird?”

Oswald’s mouth pulled at the corner, stretching into a long smirk. “I’m not, no. In my position, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He denied, standing up from his stiff mattress, straightening out his pants. “However, I do not need to.”

“You little-” A hand gripped the back of Hennessy’s neck, squeezing with a strength that could easily tear a few intervertebral disks. A slightly important piece of spine to keep when it sat between each vertebrae. 

“I’d choose your next words carefully.” A voice from behind Hennessy spoke, Riddler’s coiffed hair standing out against the dim light outside of the cells. 

Oswald grinned widely, clearly pleased with the fact the officer hadn’t seen Riddler standing in the dark corner of the cell against the same wall as the door. The guard had been _so_ focused on him, on getting his beatings in, he hadn’t even registered the figure in the corner. “You see, I have more friends in here than you realize. And in your lackluster hiring process, I see your bosses have hired one of my associates.” He spoke to the guard in a hushed voice, wanting to see the man dead either way. Hennessy was not new to the beating groups, he had his boots in on several night time roughings. “I’m no longer trapped in here with you. Now, you’re trapped in here with me.” 

“Are we finished of our villainous bragging?” Riddler questioned from over the shoulder of the man, waiting for his turn to continue.

“Oh… why not? I suppose I should save a portion for everyone. Moderation and all that.” Oswald agreed with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest contently. “Do with him as you will.” 

Riddler took the guard’s shoulder before he released his neck, spinning Hennessy around with a warm smirk. “Could you follow me, Hennessy? I have something I’d love to show you.” The demon’s voice was thick and smooth, that look in his eyes and expression over his face that said everything without even needing to look at the guard’s reactions. 

“You do, Nashton?”

“I do indeed.” Riddler spoke, his charm strong after feeding from Oswald the night before, leading the guard out of the cell. “I’ll be back, I promised a friend I’d get takeout.”

“I’ll be here.” The man in the prison outfit replied, taking off his blue shirt to relax in the given tank top. He would hate to be seen dressed in such a shameful way, tanktop and jeans, but he had little choice. And the shirt itched. Whatever it was made out of wasn’t nearly high quality enough, it was like he could feel a rash brewing in his skin. 

Patiently, Oswald waited. The man enjoying that, for a second night in a row, he had the opportunity to relax. He got comfortable sitting on his bed again, letting the breath escape him. It felt good to have some power again, to begin turning things around. He could morph that prison into a quick gang in no time, if he had the right motivators. And not dying was a fantastic first motivator. 

Riddler returned to the cell after walking a round of the block Oswald was kept in, looking to maintain a semi-professional identity. “Croc, unsurprisingly, loves to play with his food.” He commented as he walked in, taking off his hat to rest on the sink, his eyes moving to Oswald’s somewhat lit figure on the bed. “It makes a racket though, which is unfortunate.”

Oswald merely chuckled at the statement, bobbing his head along to the information.

“Oswald, how was your day?”

“It was actually quite wonderful, thanks to you…-” He replied, his focus shifting to the demon as he stood from the bed to position himself in front of his partner. “-R. Nashton.” He finished his statement, directing his thanks solely at what the name tag on the fiend’s chest said. 

“An alias I sometimes use.”

“Mhmm? And what does the R stand for?”

“Riddick. Riddick Nashton.”

Oswald rolled his eyes at first with a breathy laugh. “Seriously? Riddick? Was Riddley not available or subtle enough?” He questioned, flicking Riddler’s name tag with the tip of his finger. “You might as well named yourself Riddles McFake-Name.” He could see the amusement beyond the demon’s false lack of reaction, going into habit of preening anything the fiend wore in order to distract himself. “So where does Nashton come from?”

It would have been more pleasant to have the protection from the first night he was there, but… beggars simply couldn’t be choosers. He had him now and that was what mattered. Or at least it did while he was feeling sentimental.

Riddler studied Oswald’s face for a long moment not responding just yet until he glanced towards the bed where Ed sat, the two personalities exchanging looks.

_“Might as well, what he knows now can’t be more than that.”_

“Maybe so, but it’s not my story to tell. I didn’t go through it, I was made from it.” He pointed out to the other. “I don’t know all that happened.”

_“...Let me through, I’ll tell him.”_

It took a minute for the personalities to coordinate, trading places when both of them could find their balance. The demon’s head lifted a little as Ed admired the prison for the first time with his own eyes. 

“This place is a little… drab.” He commented as some way to fill the silence, rocking back and forth on his feet before smiling at Oswald sadly. “Hi… Sorry we took so long.” He apologized for them, using a hand to cup the other man’s face, studying the bruises. “If we came sooner we could’ve prevented some of this…” He sighed, angling Oswald’s head to better see the colors in the dim lighting available.

“The name, Ed, where does the name come from? My state of beating we can’t change.” Oswald put the fiend back on track, setting his hand over Ed’s that was on a slightly less-swollen-than-it-was-yesterday cheek.

“Oh. Yes. Well… Nashton was the surname of the human baby I replaced. It was my… adoptive family’s name at the plantation.” Ed informed Oswald simply, wanting to tell the human himself since he had the chance, even if he was only out for a moment to do so. “To be quite open, I don’t know my birth name. My demon name, I mean. All I’ve ever known was Edward Nashton.”

“No middle name? Could your family not afford one?”

Edward merely shrugged, not having an answer for him. “I don’t know. They never stated I had one, never called me by any other names when in trouble like other parents did for their human children. I’ve never seen the documentation of the child I replaced, their birth certificate. I began forging my own at a point, I had to for obvious reasons.” He couldn’t be, likely, born in 1819 today but still look 30. He needed forged documents in order to get by in jobs and other paperwork for identification every other human had. He had an eye for detail, so learning how to make them was a fun weekend project.

Oswald’s brow raised at one point in particular, but perhaps he should focus on the possibility of wonderfully forged documents later. That could come in handy for him at a point in the future though… Hm. “Nashton… It doesn’t much suit you, I must say.” The man commented with a shift of his mouth, as though something distasteful hit his pallet. “I have a question.”

“I have a high statistical chance of knowing the answer.”

“The human children are taken away, disassembled by those fairies, and the demon children are put in their place. Do you look at all like the original Edward Nashton would have?” Oswald was curious on this now that the thought was in his head. Could demon babies copy the newborns they replaced? Or did they have their own genetic looks and fairies simply attempted to match, if at all. He shifted in his stance, standing around always making him aware of how sore his leg could get when he had nothing to help balance the pressure.

Ed lead Oswald to the bed in the cell, sitting them both down so the human wouldn’t have to continue standing with him, unbuttoning the uniform jacket he wore to be able to relax. “Not to my knowledge. And a human newborn’s appearance does shift as it ages. Fun fact, a lot of those features happen to change around the three month mark.” He stated with a grin, giving Oswald information he had stored in his head.

“I’m sure it would be fun… If I cared _at all_ about children.” Oswald denied acceptance of the fact, crossing his arms over his chest. Children were incredibly useless most of the time, he had no need for them or their annoyances.

Ed’s lower lip pouted slightly as he tried to think of a way to bounce back, only having more of his story to rely on. “My adoptive father was Samuel, he was a planter born in 1792, owned a medium sized tobacco plantation, and he’s one of the worst people I’ve met in my life.”

_“Even I can’t enjoy his cruelty.”_ Riddler leaned back against a wall next to the broken sink, his outfit still held in the officer’s uniform though his jacket remained buttoned professionally over his chest. _“Which is quite the statement.”_

“He was… an intensely cruel man. Incredibly abusive, argumentative, and aggressive. Some planters were not all terrible, some tried to make their plantations something of a safe area for the slaves to find some sanctuary in. Treated their people well, cared for them. They were incredibly few and far between. My father figure was not one of them.” Oswald listened as Ed spoke, not knowing he was going to be receiving more of an origin story from the demon, though he remained focused on him. He would be attentive to the information. “As early as I can remember he was never happy. He hated me, hated the people that slaved for him, hated his wife, hated his associates.”

“If he’s so memorable and vicious, why does Riddler not remember what happened?” It seemed that unattached cruelty was one of Riddler’s preferred reactions.

“Riddler didn’t exist then. I developed him because of Samuel. He was born because of the cruelty Samuel had.”

Born? “A personality… born?” The imagery in his head didn’t want to cooperate with reality, unsure of how any of this made sense. Then again, he was no psychologist.

“More or less.” 

“Which is it?”

“What?”

“Is it more, or is it less?”

Ed thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “You know, you’re correct. Created would be more natural for this situation.” 

_“You? Birth me? Please, if you were the adult of the two of us we wouldn’t have gotten half as far as we had. You pieced me together until I didn’t need you anymore.”_

The demon considered his best way to try and present his story to Oswald. “I had always been… a curious child, hands-on, nosey, shy. When I could first start wandering on my own I would walk out of the plantation house and go to where the slaves would be working. They were blacksmiths, they were seamstresses, they were carpentry repair, these people could do anything. I didn’t realize at the time that fear and death threats were the motivations for them to be as good as they were, I simply thought they were all naturally that talented. At this point I didn’t know Samuel’s rage, he was hardly in the house around me, he was usually out on the farm. Keeping things to his _standards_.

“So I would go to the huts and cabins where the slaves would sleep, where they worked, I’d visit them and ask what they were doing. There were a number of them who wouldn’t trust me, they couldn’t afford to, not even a child could slip by their defences. They had to stay alive and I don’t blame them. A few of the older slaves there didn’t mind me. They’d let me ask questions, they’d answer me to the best of their knowledge, they’d show me what they did. They taught me about where they came from, their forced journeys. I began learning several native African languages from them, singular and identifying words mostly.” In the plantation Ed had been taught what his father believed he should know, a very strict set of lessons that were biased to the white skinned, Southern, enslaving humans’ beliefs. It wasn’t enough, it was clearly missing pieces, but no one would answer his questions honestly. No one but the people forced to work for the men they didn’t know.

Oswald let Ed tell the story, pushing himself closer to the demon on the thin mattress of the cell bed, setting a hand on the fiend’s knee to show support. “Of course you’d be a gnat pestering everyone for knowledge.” He attempted a joke, feeling like he and Ed as children would have gotten along well. He had adored giving information and being right, Ed wanted information and being taught.

Ed’s mouth pulled slightly in the corners, forming a short grin with a shrug. “I’ve always loved to learn. The world is a large puzzle, figuring out how things worked and why they were as they were has always been a passion of mine.” He loved being able to get the answer to a question, and as a child he was unstoppable. “So I would take often trips to visit them, spend time with them and learn from them. They were incredibly smart people, resourceful, capable. The other white humans would say they had no formal education, they were stupid, but it was so incorrect and short sighted. 

“Though the white humans didn’t appreciate my visiting them.” The people forced to slave under his adoptive father’s control were so incredibly smart, and he had learned more from them than he ever had in the plantation house. Not everyone was such a fan, though. “After a time, my adoptive father realized what we were all doing… and he put a very quick stop to that. He would beat them, and then beat me in order to establish his dominance and rules over everyone involved. If I so much as mentioned something that wasn’t taught to me by the tutors, I was beaten. If I mentioned an African word, beaten. If I looked at any of them too long, beaten. And if he suspected I had any thought of them or their teachings at all in my head… Well, the pattern here doesn’t change.”

“Beaten.” Oswald answered on his own, it often not occurring to him what sort of year it was that Edward grew up in. It made his heart sink, especially when he thought of how he grew up with a mother who couldn’t have loved him more than she had, his every need was her wish to grant. He knew abuse better as an adult than he ever had as a child. 

“Correct, you win.” Ed gave the man a somewhat sad smile. “I healed slowly back then, I was too young to feed, and because I was restricted in people I saw, I couldn’t absorb properly. Children of my species automatically siphon bits of soul from anyone around them. If we are well socialized it is hardly noticeable in the people, it would be such a minute amount from many. It is absorbed into us through interaction, contact, usually. I was reduced to seeing only one or two people a day, so eventually I would take too much from them, they would seem sick, and they would be replaced. We are social demons by nature, it’s how we live and how we learn to get closer to humans, learn how to blend in with them and be accepted. We are left with humans to raise us for a number of years so we learn what it is like to be human. I didn’t have that same opportunity for long, and now I’m a bit… socially awkward, if you can believe that.” He did his best with social interactions and considering his upbringing, he thought that he actually did rather well. 

Oswald could see how that made sense with Ed, if his species was supposed to be social. Which, in order to feed and attract people… being socially inept would make it awkward to try and build that first contact to lure a human in. “So how did Riddler enter any of this?” He questioned, believing he now had enough of an idea of Ed’s childhood experiences to continue. 

“I created him, accidentally mind you, as a way to… handle my adoptive father’s abuse.” He answered honestly, the demon shifting slightly in his position, clearly uncomfortable in thinking back to those times. 

The man’s eyes took in Ed, bouncing about the wall beside them a few times in thought before he proceeded forward. He sat himself closer to Ed, patting the mattress softly. “I know it’s nothing compared to the luxuries I have at the manor, but would you care to lay down with me, Ed?” Oswald offered his care and attention, having noticed the sounds the demon made before with being the one cuddled, perhaps it could help him more again. When he was ever unsure or unsettled his mother would always take him in closely, hug him, and tell him that things were okay. He could extend the same comforts and help.

_“Be careful with this…”_ Riddler warned, knowing that this was not the place to get too comfortable in their surroundings. Though their patrol area covered Oswald’s cell and the area surrounding, there were places where other guards overlapped their paths. 

“I would, yes.” Ed nodded quickly, moving himself with Oswald to lay on the barely-there mattress. The man took a few moments longer to situate himself, laying on his less sore side with his arms open for Edward to join him. The fiend removed his gun holster and jacket, leaving them at the end of the bed so he could slide into his partner’s hold. 

Oswald let Ed get close to him, arms hugged around the demon’s head, feeling the frames of his partner’s glasses pressed into his collarbone. With a forehead against the slope of his throat it left the man able to rest his chin against styled hair, fingers again playing with the ends of the slicked do in the back. It kept them busy and pleased him with contentment. “Please Ed, do go on.” He encouraged with the new positioning, staring over the Incubus’ head at the wall on the other side of the room. 

_“Stay aware, Eddie.”_

“I was scared. I didn’t know what to do and the people around Samuel either ignored that it was happening or encouraged it. I was four when I first witnessed his violence, five when I first had it directed on me, and five and a half when I began to think… creatively.” Ed explained how he came about his situation. “It didn’t stop. It never ended. Day after day, he would abuse me in some way. Verbally, physically, or emotionally. Mentally… I don’t believe I was setup to succeed against that. I was not socialized properly, I could not tell anyone, if I did there were repercussions.” The demon let out a long breath, able to recall those days as if it had happened recently. The downfall of having a mind that refused to let go. “Unfortunately for me, being a demon, I couldn’t die. Not by his hands or his belt, anyway. I think he meant to kill me several times, he probably should have accomplished that, but I disappointed him there too.” 

That… was a lot of information. Being in a family where Oswald’s mother probably would have threatened to cut someone for glancing at him with suspicioned malice. The beatings made little sense to him. As far as Samuel was concerned, Ed was his child. To kill children… sure, sometimes it was necessary. However, when killing children, it showed more class to kill them quickly. Whoever gained something by continually torturing a child was beyond reason, they were truly sick.

Oswald licked his lips as he attempted to think of how to continue, mouth hanging open and pressing his chin further into the styled slick back below. “I, for one, am glad that you disappointed him. If he really wished to kill you, he should have shot you. Or drowned you in a bathtub, preferably as a toddler or younger in order to spare the realization of his actions. Something merciful. Having done what he did… that is shameful.” Perhaps he could have had more comforting, softer words, but those were merely his morals. Every person should have reasonable standards they stuck to.

Riddler couldn’t help but smirk in his position against the wall. _“And he’ll kill children. We can’t possibly take him to meet Mother Sphinx, she’ll try to marry us to him.”_ Was there no one he wouldn’t kill in a terrible way? No one kind of person that would stop him? A man on a mission was a powerfully attractive thing.

Ed wrapped one arm around Oswald’s waist, the one pinned under him moved forward for distraction. The demon running the edge of his thumbnail over the ribbing of the man’s tank top. The feeling let his mind focus on something else while he spoke. “So… I tried to create a way to deal with that, devise a way to cope with the situation.” He enjoyed the way the ribbing caught his nail, skipping it along to the next. “I couldn’t handle it as I was, I was not strong enough. I simply had to make a more improved version of myself that could adjust to those situations. It would make me more adaptable. If I made a more efficient self, perhaps the situations would be easier to handle.”

“So you made Riddler.”

“He didn’t have a name then, he didn’t until a number of years after we met Mother Sphinx.” That was an entirely different tale. “At first I tried to embody the traits that I imagined would help, that didn’t work. I tried to make a character I could play that had the personality to get through the situations, that was closer but still didn’t work. The more I attempted to make myself better and stronger, the more I failed. I wasn’t cut out to take what Samuel could do. It’s when a voice began to tell me to let go that it really began. I didn’t know what that meant, so I couldn’t listen.

“There were times when I was 6 that I would black out during his punishments. I would wake up later, no recollection of what happened. Eventually I never remembered it happening at all. I would hear Samuel approaching, close my eyes, I would open them, and he never came.” Ed explained, tracing his nail in the space between two of the ribbings of Oswald’s shirt, still preoccupying himself. “I didn’t know _he_ was there. That _he_ existed. I was unaware that I’d developed _him_ as a personality, that when I was trying to pretend to be this character I’d made, my mind was actually working on how to replace me with _him_ when needed. I thought the beatings had stopped. I didn’t find out until later that Riddler had been shutting out my thoughts, he’d been taking the beatings for me. That he’d been actively trying to protect me from it.”

_“No need to get so sentimental about it. When I arrived you were crying constantly, taking over was the only way to get you to be quiet.”_

Ed continued, unable to help the smirk that came with his other half trying to brush it off. “Back then, when I was a child, he would do what he could to protect me. Though I think once he realized how much he needed this body as well it became self-preservation.”

Riddler shook his head, arms crossed over his chest while his eyes remained to the halls. It did neither of them any good for him to keep watch, all he knew was what Ed was looking at, but it completed a look. _“You created me to be a stronger, less shaken, smarter, more capable version of you. Although making me able to take those beatings… maybe that’s where the pleasure from pain comes from.”_ He really didn’t mind being hit, taking a hit and feeling the sting was half the fun. It hurt, sure, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t turn around to feel great about. _“Child-you created a genius, manipulative, masochistic, murderous, unfeeling, already adult personality. Which says quite a bit about you psychologically, I assume. Most kids that age would do what…? Make some teddy bear imaginary friend that always agreed with them and said silly jokes?”_

“I needed an adult there to look out for me, and _he_ did.” When Ed physically saw Riddler in the orchard years ago for the first time, Ed was around 12. Riddler, however had visually appeared and spoke like he was in his late-20’s to mid-30’s. Until Ed grew up, they weren’t the same age. Riddler had been developed as an adult, as a protector. It was a figure Ed hadn’t known in childhood, it was something he needed. It didn’t exist for him, so it was made for him. A strong, protective adult who could handle the other adults of his life that wouldn’t listen to a child.

Oswald hadn’t stopped playing with Ed’s hair during the talk, though he was entertaining himself by messing with the locks and the styling product in it. The hair wasn’t completely poseable anymore, but it was open to suggestion, which was just as good. He might’ve been spiking it back a little during Ed’s heartfelt childhood abuse recollection story… he was paying attention though! This was just… a distraction. Still, the smile on his face that he was attempting to hold back was apparent, chuckling above Ed’s hair in amusement.

“What’s… so funny?” The demon questioned, pulling back his head to look up at Oswald.

“I… I sincerely apologize. This must… look quite awful in reaction to… your traumatizing tale, I… I can’t help but picture Riddler as he is now, so authoritative and demanding, in the body of a six-year-old.” His torso clenched as he laughed softly, feeling the pain especially in his ribs as he did so, but it was such an amusing mental picture. It made him cringe with the pain, but the amusement was so much more worth it.

Ed paused, having not thought of that. His smile grew long, laughing lightly as his head went back into Oswald’s chest, muffling the sounds with the tank top and torso before him. He had to admit, he had never pictured the combination, but the thought of Riddler in that state as he tried to control the situation, and yet was an astounding three and a half feet tall… 

_“Really? The two of you giggle monsters over there demeaning me by a stature I couldn’t change? I don’t see why Oswald laughs, he’s the size of a child now.”_ Alright, that was petty, but he wasn’t going to take that laughter without saying anything at all.

Ed, being the only one else to know, laughed a little harder, refusing to say anything aloud about it. He didn’t feel like being slaughtered in the prison, he’d keep that shot between them. The fiend’s ears took in a sound he wasn’t paying any mind to, however Riddler moved from the wall to the cell bars, trying to figure out what it could’ve been.

_“Someone’s coming.”_

“What?” Ed’s head turned around as far as it could go, trying to get a look at Riddler and cluing into sounds happening just down the hall. “Someone is coming…”

“What…?”

_“I have a plan, just do as I say. And tell Oswald what he needs to do.”_

 

Officer Douglas walked down the halls of the cell block, hearing whispering further in the dim lighting of the prison. He walked ahead, briefly checking each cell as he went, his gun holster knocking off his flashlight as he walked. Whispers turned to muffled speaking, something being kicked, aggressive growling… What the fuck?

He jogged a little faster to the cell in question, looking inside to see one figure over another, feet kicking against the prison bed, protesting sounds muffled by something. Douglas took out his flashlight, shining it in the cell to get a better view of the scuffle. He could see the officer’s uniform over the figure on top, minus a couple articles, but he knew what it was instantly. He could see how the figures froze with the light on them, the feet kicking twice as hard after a moment. “Who’s in there? What’s goin’ on?”

The officer in the cell raised his head, Douglas taking in the tousled locks, loose tie and collar, heaving chest of Nashton hunched over Penguin in his cell. Nashton seemed to swallow thickly, eyes bouncing about the cell. “It’s… not what it looks like?”

Douglas cocked his head to the side a bit, walking to the other end of the cell outside the bars, shining his flashlight between the two on the prison bed. Penguin’s pants were undone, several inches lower than they’d normally be, tank shoved up his torso. Penguin’s hair was half over his face, skin flushed, and panting like he’d been running. As if he could. “Looks like some gay shit to me, Nashton.”

“You know… yes, I could see how one might observe that to be the case.”

Penguin kicked a little harder, trying to shove the officer off of him, being held down at the wrists with the officer sat on his upper thighs. “Get him off of me! This is sexual harassment to the highest degree! I don’t agree to this! Get him out of here!”

Douglas took in Penguin’s rage and shouting, shrugging his shoulders. “Look, I ain’t here. I ain’t seen nothin’ happenin’. You wanna try’n get’cha dick wet? Good for you. The Warden will actually love this. No one here likes doin’ gay shit, this is fantastic.” He encouraged the happening, talking through the bars more to the other officer than to Penguin.

“WHAT?!”

Nashton gave Douglas a shy grin, shrugging his shoulders gently. “Gay isn’t entirely accurate, but yes I will participate in sexual or romantic situations with men. Or take advantage of them, you know, for the mental anguish it causes.” He tried to cover his tracks for his actions, explaining all while still sitting over the prisoner, words coming out rushed as he made up the excuses he was being fed from his other half.

Douglas waved a hand to brush it off. “No need to explain yaself to me, Nashton. It’s not my thing, but that’s okay. I support’chu and what’cha doin’.” He hardly noticed that Nashton wasn’t acting like his usual self, but Douglas contributed that to being caught red-handed. “I’ll tell the Warden, he’s gonna be pumped, don’t’chu worry. He’s gonna love this. I promise you. He’s gonna want’chu doin’ gay shit all the time to Penguin.” He chuckled, shining his flashlight directly into Penguin’s face. “Yer stupid scaley dog can’t help ya this time. Literally gonna get Nashton all over ya ass every night. Doin’ all that gay shit.”

“No! NO! A thousand times no! What is wrong with all of you?!” Penguin yelled so loud he could have his voice carry into the prison, pushing and shoving against Nashton, but the officer didn’t move.

“Th-Thank you… Douglas. That is… surprising.” 

“Think nothin’ of it, bud. I got’chu, I support’chu, love what’cha doin’. Pride or somethin’, right?”

“Right. Pride.” 

“Alright, you have fun in there. See you later, Nashton.” He walked on with his patrol, leaving the officer in the cell with the convict, allowing any delinquencies to happen.

Both the men in the cell stared at the bars for a long moment, processing what happened though Oswald spoke first. “You must be kidding. What is wrong with this prison? I’m seemingly being raped, and he doesn’t blink an eye.” 

Ed shrugged gently, not moving from his spot. “I’m… unsure. It’s no restaurant and ice cream shop Mid-Town, but… at least we can still have date nights, I suppose.” He suggested, looking back down to the man under his capture. “Maybe the romance will waver, depending on the scene we put on, but… in general we get more time together?”

Oswald rolled his eyes, head falling back to observe the ceiling. “This is ridiculous.” He huffed, feeling somewhat insulted that the guard encouraged the behavior. “They don’t get to beat me anymore so now this is enforced.”

“On a bright side,” Ed began, trying to consider their options. “If they believe that I’m a better punishment for you by doing this, they may not send in guards here at all at nights. And if they believe we’re having forced coital relations, then Riddler or I can visit for longer and stay in here with you at nights.”

_“Of course you’re missing the most important fact.”_ Riddler shook his head, scowling from his unmoved position at the wall, staring into his brows in annoyance. _“You’re going to have to pose for some sexual appearing situation every night at this time to have them believe you’re doing what you’re meant to be doing. Which… is going to tread a line with him depending on his boundaries.”_ Riddler pointed out, gesturing a hand to Oswald.

“Right… that will be an issue.”

Oswald blinked, glancing to the side of the room across the wall and back to Ed. “What did he say?”

“Oswald… if I may ask, how well can you fake a moan?”

 

**“What do you mean he’s doing fine?!”** Barbara slammed her hands down on her desk, clenching her teeth as she glared daggers into the officer sitting across from her in her base of operations the morning after Nashton’s orientation was discovered.

“I… uhm… Well, we were doing really good with the uh… with the beatings and stuff. And he was really sad and like… and hurting, but… uh…” The officer was a bit intimidated by the woman, reporting how things were going personally. She requested a one-on-one report, rather than trusting the Warden that things were going as scheduled. “He kinda teamed up with Croc, and he’s a big guy, and uh… well… That didn’t go so well. And uhm… Oh, but! But! Good news, I think! There’s a gay officer on the patrol now, so… so Warden’s going to have him all over Penguin every day and he’s going to scar him real good! And like will probably beat him then and stuff too. So… that’s good, right?”

Barbara rolled her eyes with a heavy frown. “What is it with men and putting their dick in things and assuming that’s a fix for everything?” She questioned Tabi standing next to her with a groan, hands dropping to her lap to sit over each other as she composed herself. “Look, I don’t care what you do to him, just make sure he’s miserable and hates it. Hurt him. However you need to, hurt him. Don’t let his stupidly named friends get in the way, just handle him. Who’s the officer taking care of this… new torture?”

“Nashton, ma’am. Riddick Nashton.”

“Hmm. Get me his file, bring it here and tell me any updates as soon as you have them.” The officer nodded, grabbing the hat he’d taken off out of respect to Barbara to start marching out quickly. “Oh, and Johnson?”

“Yes… Ma’am?”

“Make sure Nashton is doing his job. I will not have Penguin having a good time in there. Make sure he keeps it cruel and unusual. I need Penguin broken.” The blonde’s tone went from sweet to threatening in only two sentences, taking her gun from under her desk to aim at the officer. “Do it well, or else.”

“Y-Yes! Yes, Ma’am!” He scrambled out of the building, running out to his car to go report to the prison. 

Barbara waited for him to leave before she turned to Tabitha in her seat, sighing heavily. “I think it’s time for the Warden to get another visit. I don’t trust these idiots. I’ll wait on Johnson to return with the file on Nashton, I need you to infiltrate and talk to the Warden. Make sure things are progressing well, that Penguin’s still failing.” She directed, turning back to her desk and tapping her nails on the wood surface. “His businesses are still on his side, they’re still holding for the moment. They haven’t seen Penguin in some time, so I can only imagine how much longer they need until we can take them out from under him. Promise them a more stable future. With someone _not_ in prison!” 

Tabitha thought about it for a time, crossing her arms over her chest with a nod of her head. “I can do that. See what he’s got for you so far. And if nothing…” She grinned, slipping a small knife out from one of her sleeves. “I’ll remind him who he’s working for.”

“What a little devil you are.” Barbara grinned, pleased with the continuing of her plan. “Check on Penguin while you’re there, look like a guard. Don’t interfere, just peek. I want to be sure they aren’t lying to me to save themselves and their precious jobs.” 

“What do you have on them?”

The blonde woman shrugged a shoulder softly, tracing her finger in a circle over her desk. “Nothing too big. Just a little tax evasion, fraud, and reckless endangerment. Some minorly inconvenient things for the time being.” She mentioned, taking a folder from a desk drawer beside her calf. “And this, is for when we aren’t so nice.” 

Tabitha eyed the folder curiously, raising a brow with her focus on the covered documents. “You’ve always got a plan, don’t you?”

“Sweetie, of course. That’s why _I’m_ in charge.” She smiled effortlessly, leaning back in her chair. “Now, go. I want to be sure this is handled immediately. Make sure those buffoons aren’t messing it up.”

“Trust me now, _Sweetie_ , this is my specialty.”


	18. Leading Actor

Waylon Jones was generally a simple man to please. He didn’t want much from the life that surrounded him. He lived on his own, he murdered those who crossed him. It was easy living. He had many things going for him until his capture and sentence to Blackgate Penitentiary. They took him from his home, his place of comfort, where he was the most happy.

He didn’t like it in the prison. The guards mocked him, they laughed at him, they hurt him, they purposefully bullied him to the point of rage in order to label him hostile and attack him further. They used him for their amusement. They bullied him because he was different… 

So when a figure promised to get him whatever he liked in exchange for helping a man who was experiencing similar torment from the guards… he could stand to listen. Why trust a guard though? The officer smelled of fear, cowered when he approached, tried to avoid eye contact at first. The new guard was different though, he didn’t smell like the others. 

All humans had a similar stench about them, it made them easy to find. And every individual human had a particular scent that made them easy to track. 

Waylon couldn’t trust the officer who could turn on him, he pointed out how the guard would betray him as soon as he agreed. It wasn’t worth the risk and the pain if there was no guarantee for his safety. 

The human was less than human when he shed his clothing, changing into a beast that Waylon could somewhat identify with. He hated how the other could hide, how he had a way to blend in, that wasn’t fair! He attempted to attack the creature posed as a guard, pounding on the door as a way to try and break it down, putting his full weight into it and caused the metal to creak in protest.

The fearful creature gathered some courage, it showed sympathy, it understood some of his issues.

Waylon calmed down after a minute, watching as the creature turned human again, listening more intently to the creature’s offer. He was no obvious officer, he had some secrets and Waylon could work with that. He agreed to the offer of several guards delivered to him, ones he had the largest vendettas with, ones that caused him the most pain.

The guard described who Waylon was to look out for, but he hardly left his cell anymore. He had no reason to. He didn’t know the new fish in the pond that the guard was talking about. 

The creature disguised as an officer took a bag from his pocket, talking about how he read into Waylon’s tracking ability, putting the bag in the tray that allowed officers to feed the crocodilian prisoner. Waylon took the bag in his clawed hands, popping it open curiously to pull out a long purple patterned fabric strip. Some sort of neck garment regular society bothered themselves with. He sniffed the fabric, taking in the individual scent and studying it with several other deep inhales. 

“His name is Oswald, he… means a lot to me. If we have a deal, this would help a lot. From what I’ve seen he’s everyone’s punching bag.”

**“I will help. Will keep Oswald safer. Cannot always watch, but will see.”**

“Thank you, Waylon. This will be a beneficial friendship for everyone, I promise.”

**“Friendship? Friends with me?”**

“Well… sure. I don’t see why we couldn’t. You seem very reasonable.”

**“I rip the flesh off men. I eat their bones. I crush their skulls to drink the fluids.”**

“Hm, colorful imagery. My mother is the same way, crushing was always a favorite of hers. Crushing and suffocating.”

**“You are strange.”**

Waylon saw the smile the officer developed, shrugging casually. “I’ve been told worse. Strange people make better friends, I think.”

**“Friends.”**

 

When Waylon exited through his swim tank to get to the yard he could smell Oswald in the air, the scent standing out to him now that he knew who to look for specifically. He followed the scent, tracking who should be Oswald surrounded by many men who were in the process of hurting him.

Oswald was odd colors for a man, attributing that to the many beatings he heard he was on the receiving end of. When the other prisoners ran off he wasn’t surprised by the studying stare, how Oswald took in his stature and his appearance. He was fearful, but only for a brief time before it seemed to fade from the man.

That, and he wanted to know his name. Not what the other people called him based on his appearance, but a given name. Which was odd for anyone Waylon had met in the last fourteen years. He seemed to care to some degree. 

Speaking with Oswald gave Waylon a new perspective on the friend he was meant to protect. He was a criminal, but was hardly caught. Oswald was a monster among men, though still bullied and mistreated for his odd features. It was a story the beastial man could identify with.

One thing that truly seemed to surprise Oswald was not Waylon’s diet, but his age. 

Where Oswald believed Waylon was in his thirties, the crocodile resembling man was actually only nineteen. To which the man he defended seemed to only be more impressed with him. Waylon didn’t trust people, so Oswald claiming to want to have him in his employ seemed like a pretty lie, to match the offer of escape. He didn’t believe it, but he’d see how their friendship went.

At worst, he killed him, and used Oswald’s bones for cell decorations.

 

Riddler kept his eye on Oswald during his next shift, back in the later afternoon once he was off for sleep that he didn’t need. More of his work seemed to rotate to later shifts, which worked fine for what he needed. Night patrols let him sneak in to see Oswald and they allowed him to peek about prison security and eye their best way for escape. So far the obvious escapes involved too many guards. He was confident in his ability to charm, but too many at once would become dangerous to juggle properly so they weren’t arrested during the breakout. It was too risky. He needed Oswald outside, not both of them inside.

Riddick Nashton got a shockingly large amount of support from the other officers believing in Ed’s cover story. The number of them that were down for sexually harassing the prisoners was sickening, but the best he could count on was that it was him and no one else. During his early evening he stood against the wall of the cafeteria, watching the prisoners get dinner, glad to see when Oswald sat down and could actually ingest something. Even if the food looked barely passable as something recognizably edible. Or perhaps that was simply his standards getting in the way. Regardless, Oswald was eating. 

At a point one of the other guards gently punched him in the arm, eyes on Oswald as they grinned to him knowingly. Riddler chuckled in reaction, playing up his smug, in control character. “Watch this.” Nashton encouraged the other officer, whistling into the cafeteria for them both to see Oswald’s head rise, staring back in their direction. Riddler put on a charming face, winking at Oswald with a click of his tongue only the other officer could hear. 

Oswald gripped his fork tighter, squirming in his seat as his mouth clenched tightly closed, jaw sliding forward while he glared at the man caught in his cell last night. He and Riddler had established signs to gain each other’s attention, knowing they had to play up a scene for the guards who now believed that the Incubus in disguise was a daring-and-ready abuser. So, Oswald had to be the rejecting, angry prisoner. Not that it was too difficult of a role to fill with his experience in the prison already.

When he got out of there he was going to find a way to destroy the Warden, replace him with someone who kept a strict ship. 

The other officer chuckled, pointing at Oswald while he spoke to Nashton with a clearly amused smile on his face. “If you go to the hall in Section C, we could get him out to a closet there once dinner’s ended.” He suggested, his grin long and cruel.

Their support was quite pushy, it seemed.

“Mhmm, might be just the pick up I need. Bring him, I’ll be waiting.” Riddler wanted to see how Oswald actually responded in the moment of these encounters. He agreed last night, but that didn’t say anything about how it might affect him during. Some sexual experiences already did not sit well with him, doing this could be negative to his mental state. And any possible sexual explorations in the future. 

Nashton walked away from the other guard, Oswald’s eyes on him with a glare until the officer disappeared. He finished eating, waiting with the other prisoners to be called back to their cells for the evening. When the group began to move, he went with them, hobbling in line until he was grabbed by the arm, pulled out of the line and directed down a hall that kept him away from the other convicts.

“What are you doing?! Let go of me this instant!” Oswald demanded with a glare, following as he needed to. He had little body mass against the large, tall guard that took him away. The same man that had been standing by Riddler earlier. He could see where this was expected to go… 

“You know, that’s convincing an’ all, but I’m going to pass. Our boy Nashton wants to have a talk with you.”

“Well, **I** don’t want to talk with him!”

“Too bad, Penguin. You don’t get a choice.” The officer drug him down a nearly empty hall, nodding at an officer he passed who returned the action, clearly not caring what was going on. This was something that seemed to get around quickly, and everyone was in on the torment. 

Oswald was delivered to a closet, cuffed before he was pushed into the small storage space that went black when the door was shut behind him. With a click and a blinding change in lighting, it took Oswald a few blinks to readjust to the room, noting the figure in the corner of his vision. He turned and sighed heavily, seeing Riddler standing at the light switch in full uniform. 

Which, he couldn’t deny, the demon wore a uniform extremely well.

Riddler raised a finger in front of his mouth, shushing to be sure they didn’t make a sound that wasn’t necessary. Oswald rolled his eyes, walking towards the fiend and glancing over his shoulder, rattling the cuffs behind his back. The demon took a set of keys off his hip, unlocking the bracelets that kept the man restrained, hanging them off his own belt for the time being. 

Oswald let go of a breath, rubbing his wrists over as some sort of comfort to himself. He took a moment before hugging his arms over Riddler’s shoulders. “What do we do? What’s expected?” He whispered in a low voice by his partner’s ear, ready to follow what was necessary to play off the ridiculous farce.

“Give me a moment.” His voice was hush in return, walked beyond Oswald, leaving the man’s hold to open the door, peeking out to see the guard who brought his company to him. The same man who encouraged him earlier. The officer gave him a thumbs up, Riddler nodding in return before closing the door. A scowl sunk into his face as soon as the barrier clicked closed. 

Great.  
How inconvenient.

He returned to Oswald, moving the man’s arms around his neck again, getting close with a huff. “He’s standing outside still, no doubt ready to prevent anyone from interrupting on your _punishment_.” His voice stayed low, unimpressed that they would have to continue the faked situation.

“Then we’ll give him a show. What’s first?”

The demon looked around the room, finding almost nothing but shelves with loose items on them. Oh, the possibilities… 

“First we establish position, the more we play into it, the easier to lie about it. Second, create cues. I’m going to squeeze your arm every time you need to make a noise. Grunt, groan, whatever you need. I’ll make two things very clear right now, I don’t trust you can fake timing for a made up sexual encounter and I’m not going to thrust against you. So, when you feel pressure, make a noise.” He instructed in his low voice, looking to the items on a shelf nearby, hitting of them off onto the floor. Tin cans and tools scattered around their feet, Riddler clearly setting a scene. 

“May I?” Oswald asked first, hand reaching past Riddler’s head to several different spray bottles and cans of cleaners. 

“Be my guest.” 

Oswald grinned mischievously as he used a hand to clear away a number of things from the shelf, thrilled as they hit the floor in chaos. Something he hadn’t gotten to do since his lockup was have fun. “What else can we ruin in here?”

“That will depend, how rough do you want it?”

“I’ll assume the rougher it is, the more favor you’ll get.” Oswald thought, voice still hushed as he picked an aerosol can, still holding onto Riddler with one arm, yet the other gave him the reach to pitch the can into a shelf beside them, knocking several more items around their shoes, breaking one glass jar that held spare screws and bolts with a smile. 

Fake rough sex was so far quite fun!

Riddler rolled his eyes in some amusement, picking up the man with little effort. “Legs around hips.” He instructed, establishing position as they needed to. It took Oswald a moment to clue in, but he did as instructed, letting his thighs do the work with his better side’s foot hooked around the ankle of the other. The man’s arms circled around Riddler’s neck completely, adjusting to the new position with mostly his upper body supporting him. “I’m going to hold your weight, is that okay with you?”

“Hold weight? Yes, fine, do what you need to.” 

The demon continued as his suggested preference, a hand under Oswald’s backside to support the man to refrain him using too much leg strength. Riddler backed himself against a wall, with his elbow several centimeters from the surface. “Now I’m estimating a man of your general weight and health… lack of sexual experience… Simple question, do you masturbate often?”

Oswald paused, brows knitted together as if he was concerned. “Not terribly, no.”

“After stressful days? Not out of pleasure, just to have the feeling?”

“...Maybe.” 

“So with that in mind… You’d be around two minutes.” Riddler checked his watch, studying the time as Oswald continued to stare at him as if he’d grown another head. “I’m estimating your ejaculatory time, why are you looking at me like that? Little experience, generally healthy, little self-practice, this is penetrative not external, and from what I observed with the oral I gave you before… I’m taking in variables and this is a likely answer. Sorry, interested in sex or not, the numbers are against you for a long lay.” 

Oswald pouted at what felt like it could be an insult, though he wasn’t entirely sure. It was simply safer to feel offended and go from there. “NO! HOW DARE YOU!” He shouted in the closet, knowing he wasn’t supposed to be a willing participant in the act, so this gave him a wonderful excuse to be angry. “LEAVE ME BE THIS INSTANT!”

“Oh you’re loving this, aren’t you?” Riddler’s eyes directed to his brow, rolling his eyes to complete the action. “Fine. Have your tantrum, but for your experience and situation that isn’t the worst number.”

“YOU CAD!”

Riddler almost chuckled at that one, holding it back with an amused grin. “Owch. That one is painful, Oz. Even for you. Where did you get that insult, 1721?” He kept his voice at a hush volume, allowing Oswald to be the one to shout, grunting loudly as he hit the wall with his elbow. He checked his watch again, keeping an eye on the seconds closely. “And I’ve got you in my hold now, give them a refusing yell.”

“LET GO OF ME! NOO! NOOO!” 

Even for a faked situation Riddler didn’t like how the screamed rejection made his stomach turn. The unsettling feeling in his torso being something he’d simply have to push through. He… cared for Oswald and had felt less satisfied in the idea of going against his wishes. Especially in situations that seemed to give the other anxiety. He was closer than he expected… Fantastic. He kept finding little ways that put him closer to Oswald than he initially ever wished and was now dealing with the consequences.

He composed himself better, focusing on the matter at hand. 

“And now muffled rejection shout.” Oswald thought about it for a moment, covering his mouth with a hand and followed through with the noise requested. If Riddler had to give the man anything, he was a reasonably convincing actor. The demon used the hand on the same arm lined with the wall to hold onto Oswald’s forearm. “And as described, grunts, groans. Save regretful, hate-filled moan for the end. I’ll tell you when. Ready?”

Oswald nodded in agreement. He so far didn’t mind the set up, it didn’t mean anything and other than the hand under his behind, there was nothing even vaguely sexual happening. The demon now knew his thoughts on the matter, so he could trust they would be respected. “Whenever you are.” Riddler was by far the expert in this field, so he would have to believe in the other to show him how to make this convincing to better save his skin. If it meant avoiding nightly beatings and a broken body, this was certainly the lesser evil by far.

Riddler’s eyes were glued to his watch, taking in where the seconds hand was, bumping his tricep against the wall with a squeeze to Oswald’s forearm at each slow impact. He kept a one second pace with each bump, hearing what Oswald thought a sex grunt sounded like. “Less _‘I got shot’_ and more _‘I got punched in the gut’_.” He attempted to describe it for the other who took the direction with thought, changing his groan to match what he was told.

Punched in the gut type groans were something Oswald was an expert in now.

This continued on for two and a half minutes, yes he padded the time slightly to soothe Oswald’s ego, Riddler bumping the wall while the man he held groaned uncomfortably in his face. He really had to say that he wasn’t a fan of that sound, but he only got more as he increased the pace. The demon glanced to his watch at the end. 

“Alright, regretful, hate-filled moan in 3, 2, 1…”

Oswald bared his teeth, dropped his brow and let go of such a sinful noise it shouldn’t be allowed to be heard again. The Incubus conducting the noise as it was made in a whisper. “Hold, hold, hold. Now struggle to pick up something heavy… and end it.”

It had been… something.

The fiend bumped the wall several more times, ending with a labored grunting, checking his watch again. “And now… I wouldn’t be off yet, so further humiliation of forced blowjob. That’ll be another five minutes.”

Oswald seemed betrayed, eyes wide at the number. “Why do you get so much time?”

“Experienced, practiced, my character is assuming I’d be doing this so I’d probably have masturbated earlier a couple times to last longer for prolonged torment to you… Should I continue?” Riddler could make Oswald a list of things, but the man refused to hear more. “Now you protest, struggle, then relax. Until we leave, your job is done.”

Oswald was set down now that their voices didn’t need to be coming from the same point, the demon leaning back against the wall with eyes on the timepiece he had to keep things on track. He had a schedule to run with this fake coital encounter, he wouldn’t deviate. The prisoner listened as the demon began to grunt and groan for his planned five minutes. Oswald decided working on his sex hair in the meantime was the better use of his free moments, checking in a metal cleaning brush as though it were a cheap mirror to track his progress.

The man displayed it to Riddler near the end of his fussing, questioning silently with shrugging arms and a perplexed expression. He would reference what his hair felt like after Riddler’s fun with him in his office at the manor, but the circumstances were entirely different. 

The demon shook his head with some fondness, not minding that the other was trying to make it all more convincing, inviting the man over to assist him. He still huffed and groaned, weaving his fingers into Oswald’s hair a couple times, playing as if he had been tugging on it. The demon felt satisfied with the look after tussling the locks again with his fingers, though he wasn’t finished. He casually began to pinch at Oswald’s face while he grunted, his partner’s nose wrinkling with the squeezing. He needed something to flush that pale skin a little more. 

The watch was held up for a final time, the Incubus checking the time, making a long, aggressive groan before going quiet. “Congratulations, Oswald.” Riddler began in a whisper. “You just had sex.”

Oswald rolled his eyes at the sentiment, an unmistakable smirk on the corner of his mouth. “Somehow I pictured it being more romantic. And real.” His voice matched his partner’s with arms crossed over his torso.

Riddler put on a face of hurt and shock. “How dare you say that wasn’t real. Ugh. My feelings are dashed.” He clutched his chest with a hand, moving to the door to press his ear against it curiously, listening for anything new happening outside. 

“Oh, you had feelings for it, did you?”

The demon stared at the other, not hearing anything suspicious on the other side. “Who do you think you are? Eddie? I take that from him because I’m stuck with him. I can punish you, you’d better be careful.” He warned the human, using skilled hands to make certain parts of his uniform askew, though it bothered him. He’d seem to be fixing it on the way out, so he only had to wait briefly. For now. ...Mostly.

“I’m shaking in my $2 jeans.” Oswald mocked in return, seeing the bit of a smile that played at the fiend’s lips. It was all in good fun, after all. He took a moment to approach Riddler, noting the other’s confusion until he grabbed the guard uniform by the collar and tie to pull the Incubus to his level for a kiss. There were many ways that could’ve gone wrong and many more where a less caring person might have taken advantage of the expectation the rest of the guards had. And the worst Riddler did was hold him up under the rear.

The demon followed the pull, not sure what made _this_ moment so special for affection, but… If Oswald deemed it so, then… fine. Hands had just enough time to hold either side of the man’s head, meeting the kiss he was given, though his mind began to work on the possibilities.

Oswald broke it off first, like he’d began it, eyes down to Riddler’s chest for a moment before meeting his gaze again. The man’s lips pulled between his teeth as he thought of how to address his thoughts. “Thank you for… being such a gentleman about this.” He decided, ending his sentence with a brief nod of his head. 

“We only go at your pace, Oz. Whatever that is. Even if we are stopped, I can adapt to that. There are more ways to please someone than only sex. And you are my partner, I have more interest in you than only physical attributes.” 

_“My partner, you say aloud to the room for all to hear.”_  
“My partner?”

“Crud…” Of course _everyone_ had caught that slip of the tongue.

_“Look at that, baby’s first heard admittance to relationship desire.”_

Ed was more willing to tease, while Oswald seemed a bit at a loss for words. The demon gained an expression of dread and frustration, glancing off to the side where only he could see his other personality. “No… No! That’s not what that was…! You’re taking it out of context!” He harshly whispered his opinion to Ed in the closet with them, pointing a finger at the other. “Oswald and I have a partnership going, a business partnership we all share, and we’ve been a duo in many things…! Shortening partnership to partners… how is that so odd?!”

Riddler had handled Oswald’s situation well enough, why couldn’t he in return? “That _is_ what you call someone you’re in a deal or understanding with. Even a close bond. I think after our experiences together it is safe to say that naturally we would be close. And having that established history would create a partnership for us, ergo, we’re partners.”

_“He can try to defend you all he wants, but you know what you said. And I know what you meant.”_ Ed pointed out, approaching Riddler while he avoided the broken and scattered items on the floor. _“Why can’t you admit that to yourself? You’ve come this far. All this and you can’t admit even to me that you could see him as a partner, a boyfriend? I won’t push further, but you know where it all could go.”_

“There’s nothing to admit!” Riddler scowled, focused more on Ed than Oswald at the moment. “You’re not the emotional boss of me! Why are any of my opinions in this matter any of your business? Don’t you have your own romance to worry about? As far as we’re concerned, I believe I’m ahead in this. Oswald and I understand each other _incredibly_ well. We’ve been through more, and been around each other more often than you have with him.”

_“Someone’s getting a little touchy and possessive.”_ Ed pointed out with a tease, having heard that Oswald was trying to find a calmer ground, but this was getting them somewhere. He would enjoy having another, less prison sentenced date with Oswald. He could see calling the human a boyfriend or even a lover given the right comfort and circumstance. Or the level equivalent of lover with Oswald’s sexuality. Depending. _“Just because you’ve spent more time together, does not make your time more meaningful. I believe I could ask Oswald out again once this prison situation is handled. Have him out in a week, second date at a week and a few days. Boyfriend in… say, two weeks? That seems a fair assessment.”_

“Please. You’re kidding yourself.” Riddler brushed off Ed’s confidence, quite fired up from the other’s taunting. “If I asked this moment Oswald would agree to being my boyfriend, but your insignificant human-relationship titles are of no concern to me. _Boyfriend_. How pathetic. Only humans would use a title so flimsy for a potential partner.” He both admitting his preference and insulting the species-specific affection title. 

_“And what would you call him then? If_ Boyfriend _is so below you, oh great demon of seduction?”_

Oswald could only watch the half conversation, unsure where the twist had suddenly come from. Ed was clearly egging Riddler on… somehow. There was a competition for his heart, it seemed, and he supposed the two sides of the demon were debating who’d have the official title first? 

“You half-brained attempt at false flattery to encourage me to continue is merely sarcasm and I know it.” Riddler shot back, his voice exceeding the whispered tones he had been keeping. “Anything would be better than _boyfriend_. Pick a synonym, it would be a vast improvement.”

_“You would be picking a human title so quickly if it was of more convenience to him.”_ Ed pointed out with a grin, walking around Riddler closely, peering over his other half’s shoulder to look at Oswald. _“Look at him, that’s boyfriend material.”_

“He is not, you must be more blind than you’re given credit for.” 

Oswald crossed his arms over his chest, feeling entirely locked out of a conversation he was clearly involved in. Even the center of, with how Riddler began to stare at him, mumbling to his better half somewhere around him. “What?” 

_“I can’t be any more blind than you, we share the same eyes.”_

“I beg to differ if this is how you see him. _Boyfriend_ material, really? What an insult.” Riddler shook his head. “If anything he’s a mate, a partner, a consort. Belittling him with _boyfriend_... What a completely non-committal title for human teenagers to use when they’re still considering what hormones and decisions they’re willing to act upon. Your desire is to lower a man of class, standard, and his level of brutality to a _boyfriend_? You’re completely out of our mind.” He waved a hand at Ed, stepping away from the projection around him. “He should be referred to as a mate, and publicly addressed as a partner. Give him some sort of decency, Eddie.”

_“Well thank you for that lecture on proper use of the title_ boyfriend. _Use it for exploratory judgement relationships that have little meaning yet._ ” Ed began to grin widely, laughing behind Riddler as he got exactly what he wanted. _“I’m sure Oswald loves hearing what he is destined to be called.”_

Riddler’s high and mighty expression fell, eyes opening somewhat wider under his glasses and heavy brow, voice dropping in a threatening way. “What?”

“What?”

_“Looks like you got too distracted again by your own frustrations. Gets ‘em every time.”_ Ed chuckled, clearly very happy with himself and his turn around. _“Now that we’ve gotten over that hurdle, go ahead and tell him what he means to you. It’s alright, I’ll wait.”_ He allowed, taking one step back and held up his hands to excuse himself from the conversation.

Riddler’s eyes closed for a long several seconds, taking a breath in to handle the rage he had for his better half. He could make this work. Spin it to his advantage. He could get even further ahead of Eddie, he could make this something… positive. He had to look at the situation logically, how could this work well for him…?

Oswald approached the situation first, noting that the conversation between the two seemed to have gone quiet, so perhaps he could finally get a noted word in. “Mate, hmm?”

Oh, crud. “When you think of it from my species’ point-of-view it’s a very complimentary word.”

“You presume I wasn’t taking it as complimentary?”

“Are you?”

“I may be.”

Riddler paused, considering his options in the moment. “I am… not prepared to use that terminology so freely yet.”

Oswald shrugged in reply, his eyes angled upwards to the taller figure. “You clearly think it though.”

“At times I have.”

“Then that is suitable for me until you reach that comfort.” 

_“Surprise! Having feelings doesn’t always lead to your demise and end. How unpredictable.”_

“And what of you…?” Riddler questioned the man, ignoring Ed and his tauntings. If he absorbed himself with Oswald he could block out the other to a minor degree. “Is this something that interests you? Or… benefits you emotionally?”

“If it didn’t benefit me, I wouldn’t be participating in it.” Oswald easily informed the demon as he walked around him, and the shattered glass on the floor, to offer Riddler his hands behind his back, wrists close together. “We should be leaving here, we’ve been in the closet for too long.” 

“An interesting selection of words.” Riddler used the cuffs from the other officer to bound Oswald again, glad that the man was more driven to complete their ruse than to dig into his emotional turmoil. Oswald spun around to look the fiend in the face, ready to be taken back to his cell. “If you could increase the obviousness of your limp, that would be of assistance to our scene.”

“Why?” Oswald could, but he didn’t understand the reasoning behind it. Women never seemed to limp after sex in recollections or in medias, why would he?

Riddler stared at Oswald for a long moment, needing to remind himself of just what the other may not know. “You just received anal with no available specialized lubricants for said job.”

“You didn’t have a condom? They have it, right?”

Riddler could give Oswald a point for not being entirely clueless. “They do, not nearly enough for what we did though.” He took Oswald by one of the wrists, leading him towards the door. “Increase the limp maybe by 10%.”

How he increased his limp by a quantifiable number specifically, Oswald wasn’t sure. Still, he considered how to accomplish it. He was already sore, but not as much as he was a couple days ago. If he went back to that… that seemed like a reasonable amount of noticeable pain. “I can manage that.” 

“Good. Now, head down, shame, regret, and spite.” He instructed, turning off the light for the closet before leading Oswald out, noting that the guard that once stood by was now gone. They were longer than he thought. Well, preferably this let them return in peace. Riddler got Oswald to his cell, passing by several guards who seemed to laugh at the prisoner with a nod to the being they took as Nashton. 

“These people are disgusting.” Oswald spat, scowling at the floor as they continued to his personal space in the prison, the man convincingly increasing his limp for the stroll back. It was like someone had just struck him in the knee. 

Riddler couldn’t agree more with the man he brought back, guiding Oswald inside before shutting the barred door between them. He followed protocol to remove the cuffs from behind Oswald, putting them on his belt again for the time being. “Generally speaking, that was fun. We should do it again some time.” 

Oswald’s eyes rolled back, humored with the wording as he hobbled his way to his bed to lie down and remove his collared shirt for the night. “Likely I won’t have a choice in the matter, so I look forward to it, Darling.” Now that they were out of general sight Oswald began to push his hair back into place, letting it sit as naturally as it could despite its lack of given care. 

“Excuse me… Darling?”

Oswald grinned, not looking at Riddler as he tossed the collared shirt by his feet on the bed, getting as comfortable as he could on what essentially felt like a pile of cardboard. “Mhm. You’ve chosen Mate and Partner. I’ve chosen Darling. Only I’m comfortable enough to say it currently.” He informed the other, putting his back to the bars to attempt sleep for the night. “Do you have an issue with that? As I also agree that _boyfriend_ isn’t the most… suitable word for either of us.”

“No… I suppose not. Darling is acceptable.”

_“And I’m left out like yesterday’s garbage. How rude.”_

“And what would you call _him_? Have you decided on that?”

Oswald was silent for a moment, the man pondering his options. He wanted something close. Related, but not the same. He didn’t want to cross them with the same pet name, as he wasn’t on the same level with either personality. “Dearest.” Both in the moment and down the road having separate terms of affection may help them.

_“Oh. That’s a cute choice.”_

“If anything is wrong, I will call either of you Beloved.” Having a safety measure in place of times where communication was restricted or had to be played up, having a pet name he could share between them as an alarm would likely do them good. 

_“Be-love-Ed. I don’t believe that was planned, but that is a fitting choice for us.”_

“You do enjoy being prepared for most situations.” The backup ideas Oswald had never seemed to end. There were few times he didn’t have an idea for something. He was always ready to adapt and plan anew. “Fine, we seem to agree to your given names.” 

“You didn’t have a choice, but I’m pleased to hear you’ll cooperate.” Oswald’s smile was out of view, the man with closed eyes and facing the wall his bed was against. “Don’t you have a job to do, Nashton?” He questioned louder, making sure he was heard. “Leave me be! You’ve done enough!” He played up his role, waving a hand to shoo Riddler away.

“See you tomorrow, Penguin.” He returned, walking away to begin his rounds. Though most of the guards along the way let him be, there were a few who had questions about the tortured bird and why everything in the closet took so long. They heard from the guard at the door of the closet how long it was that he had to leave before they even left.

Oswald was left alone in his cell that night, glad for the peace and rest he could get. He couldn’t help but feel a little distracted, mind-wise, having the thought of Riddler addressing him as a mate in his mind. The man’s shoulders would squirm as he thought of it, his mouth unable to decide what shape or position it should take. It made him wonder what Ed thought, if he was along the same lines.

His stomach did a little toss over, considering where this could put them in the future. Where would love come along? Were they in love already? No… preposterous, if anything maybe in this moment he could be in love, but previously… no. He did extremely like the sides of the demon, he did have something of a preference with Riddler, but as the demon had been telling his other half, they had more time together.

Was he being unfair to Ed then?   
Shoot.

Ed was not exactly made for prison life, so seeing him for any length of time would be difficult. He’d have to let it be for then, but make sure Ed got the proper attention afterwards. 

Oswald was realizing he was taking preference and that wasn’t fair when he technically had two lovers to consider. Lovers. Hm. One admittance and he was ready to change things all around. 

Well, he had to make a change. It was only fair that both sides of the demon were treated equally as they individually needed, and Oswald knew he was capable of that. Starting the next day he would be ready, he was going to earn his pet name from Riddler _and_ he was going to make a plan for swooning Ed. 

Simple. How hard could it be to convince a demon to say he loved you aloud?

 

Barbara toiled over the information she had, police documents on her right, several thin stacked papers and a less than full folder on her left. “I don’t get it. Whoever this Riddick Nashton is, he does nothing. Male, six foot, brown hair, brown eyes, 168lbs, born out of state, went to school in Gotham. Birth certificate, driver’s license, social security number, bank accounts… and there’s not a damn picture anywhere?! He’s described like every other man in Gotham, brown is the most common color of anything!” Barb groaned in frustration, slamming her hands down on her papers. 

Tabitha watched the human have her breakdown, standing by the desk with her arms crossed over her chest. “What about the Police Academy, he would have needed to go through that, right?”

“I’ve looked. Nothing stands out.” Barbara slid over a picture of a large class of well-dressed, new officers stacked five rows tall and about fifteen per row. A mix of officers from around the area all gathered in one school. “Look. You can hardly see hair with those ridiculous hats, so you can’t tell who’s got black and who’s got brown. Brown eyes… You can tell if they’re blue or light, everything else blends in. Men who are six feet tall?” Her hand gestured to the picture. “Surprise, half of these men are the same height and probably close to six feet.” She let out a frustrated growl, pushing the picture aside. “Men all look the same when they’re dressed up. Did you find him while you were there?”

Tabitha shook her head. “No, I was there in the morning. I checked the schedules they have. Whoever Nashton is, he works a lot of nights.” She commented as the she-devil eyed her nails, rubbing non-existent dust off of each one. “I can go back tomorrow night and try to track him down.”

“Good. You do that.” The blonde woman agreed, leaning back in her chair with a pout. This was beyond frustrating. The warden promised them results, and the best they got was some nobody without a face who was apparently taking Penguin out back to to sexually distress him. “Find out if this is real. It could be Nashton trying to get in with Oswald, might just be some boytoy getting it up to try and get a pay off. Give a little ass, get a little payout.” Just because they were banging didn’t mean it was necessarily entirely for Oswald’s discomfort. 

They could’ve made a deal, she wouldn’t put it beyond the birdbrain. 

“Fine, I’ll find him, figure out what he knows, and see if I need to stop it.” Tabitha agreed as she listed off her chores. She saw how the Warden was all about the plan to let Nashton have his way with Penguin as a sick torture. She’d see just how tortured he was and make sure the Warden was actually doing his job. If he was living up to their deal. “How are the negotiations going?”

Barbara tapped her nails on her desk, pushing around papers again though this time with a much more pleased grin. “They’re starting to fold. It’s not much, but three businesses have decided to switch sides.”

“Doesn’t seem worth the effort then.”

“Patience, Sweetie, is a virtue.” Barbara pointed out, holding up a well-manicured finger to keep Tabi from continuing her thought. “It starts with none. Then a few think it’s an okay idea. Those few start seeing results and soon the others do too. Next thing you know, half the city is teaming up with us instead and we’re getting all of the power and celebrity!” She pointed out. “Business wasn’t your major, was it?”

“You’re majorly getting in my business.” 

The blonde woman blinked several times, watching Tabitha from her seat as a forced smile crossed her face. “I’m sorry, did you want them dead or not? Did you want to go back to trying it your way? And have these two losers mop the floor with you again?” Barbara questioned the she-devil with malintent in her voice. “How well did that go for you last time? How well did your brother do against no one but a human?”

“Don’t you ever bring u-”

“LISTEN TO ME.” Barbara quickly took command, not about to let her business partner start calling the shots. “You came to me for advice and a plan. YOU wanted me to make a plan. This is my plan, okay? Either you get with it, or you can leave and this deal is over. Your choice.” When the devil didn’t move or speak Barb let out a breath with a more relaxed air about her. “Good. Now, unless you want to end up like your brother, buried out in Gotham’s back woods somewhere, I suggest you follow my lead. Humans can be trickier than you think. Especially ones like Oswald and myself. We’re a different breed of human, and we survive. The only thing that can kill us, is another human.” She claimed, standing up from her desk quickly, straightening out her pantsuit to lay properly without folds. 

Tabi kept a calm, yet stern face, riding up from her seat as well. “Are we done?”

“Yes, go. Get ready for tomorrow night. Find out who this Nashton is, where he came from, who his family is, who he hangs out with, where he goes, everything. I’m going to keep working on the East side and see about loosening their grip on the old ways.”


	19. All Buttoned Up

Tabitha’s reconnaissance proved to be as uninteresting as it could get. She was rather disappointed, really. Nashton was nothing but some guy on the street, really out to make Penguin’s day a little more unbearable. And that was it. Even tortured he didn’t admit to taking a bribe on the side, trying to get in favor with Penguin, just some guy indulging in a bad habit of his. Boring guy. Brown hair, brown-eyed, six foot, boring guy. Tabi sighed, going back to Barbara with the information.

She even had to keep him alive, which was the worst thing.

Tabitha pointed out Nashton in the police academy picture to Barb, able to identify him after a glance at the large photo.

What neither woman knew was that the she-devil hadn’t beaten up the real Nashton, just a man who was desperate to do anything to spare himself from Croc’s claws. Or so the man who originally threatened him, told him. 

Riddler had seen Tabitha stalking a hall on the opposite end of himself, stopping quickly and rushing into a room to avoid being seen. The demon threatened one of the newer guards who looked generic enough to pass any line up, trading name tags and identities with him for the day.

He stayed as far away as he could for as long as she was there. If he couldn’t feel her energy, she couldn’t feel his. 

Riddler had no time to warn Oswald, the she-devil walking through the prison like she owned it to see the caged man with a smug expression for most of the visit. Oswald told her nothing she didn’t already know, but being able to share how Barbara was slowly taking his workers out from under him had him worried. He couldn’t let the women take over, if mostly for the fact that he had to keep his mass amount of payrolled civilians in order to maintain his deal with the Incubus to keep Ed and Riddler fed. 

When she left he finally saw Riddler in passing, unable to speak with him until their time together that night, sharing what he heard and expressing a need for them to break out as soon as possible. If the she-devil was sniffing around then it couldn’t be good, worse off if Barb was taking what was rightfully his!

As much as Oswald appreciated Ed and Riddler’s help on how to maintain what he had, it wasn’t enough to simply own something. One had to make constant move of power to remind people _why_ he was the best at what he did. Why _he_ should be in command of Gotham.

He gave the Incubus a list of tasks, glad for the demon’s incredibly accurate brain to keep his wishes in order. And carried out to the letter. He had to show the business owners converting that he had reach and pull no matter where he was. He was still in charge even while incarcerated.

There was nothing that could stop him.

Over the next several days Riddler and Ed distributed Oswald’s plan, Zsasz was given free reign of several central districts across Uptown, Mid-Town, and Downtown. Staying within that boundary to be sure that word webbed out from the center to the surrounding areas. It would be chaos for a time, but clearly people were getting too comfortable if they believed they could change employment so quickly.

Oswald told Zsasz to let the petty criminals run free. They could see what it was like when they abandoned him and his protection. He cleaned up that city better than it had ever been. With him and Jim running either sides of Gotham, people were better for it. Now with his empire being uprooted… he had to see to it that he was not defeated.

While Zsasz made time for the boundary-free ruling, Ed and Riddler shaped their escape plan in the office of the manor.

 

Two weeks into Oswald’s imprisonment and things had been put into motion. It was going to be a show, and they needed participation from everyone in the audience. It had been some time coming, but the wait would be worth it. 

 

Day 17 of Oswald’s incarceration, crime rates in Gotham had risen, new cases piling over Gordon’s side investigation of what Oswald had seen the day he was arrested. Their holding cells were filling quickly each day. Shootings, manslaughter, robberies, breaking and entering, as well as turf wars being steadily on the rise. And increasing each day the once underground kingpin was out of power. Gordon would hate to say it aloud, but Cobblepot made a difference. Even if he was worse than all of them, better the devil you knew than the one you didn’t. Oswald had _some_ restraint on what he did.

Oswald kept the peons in their place. He was cautious about up-and-comers. Anyone had the potential to be dangerous to his business. He’d been a feeble, meager umbrella boy at a point, after all. And Gotham had once been comfortably under his heel not so long ago.

Anyone could be a threat.   
Everyone had to be controlled.   
Work for him, do legal jobs in the city, leave Gotham, or die. The options were simple.

 

Day 18 lead to an altercation between Nashton and Oswald in the hall between the yard and the cells. Seen by several officers and prisoners alike. The officer with the ever neatly styled coiff under his hat walked along the line up being lead to their holding cells, finding Oswald among them easily. His limp made his gait so different from the others that even listening made it obvious who was who. Nashton passed by Oswald casually, though his hand was less innocent, sneaking out from his side to goose the prisoner he’d been harrassing for over a week. 

Oswald jumped at the sudden pinching his backside took, glaring at the passing officer, the prisoner stopping dead in his tracks. “Excuse you! Keep your hands to yourself!”

Nashton paused in his walk, looking back at the man holding up the line “I’ll keep whatever I like wherever I like it. That isn’t your choice and you will accept whatever’s given.” The guard told the prisoner over his shoulder, focus fixed on Oswald from under the brim of his hat.

Oswald’s jaw clenched as he glared at Nashton, squirming in his spot in the halted single file line. “I will not! You may think you’re the boss of me, but you are far from it!” Oswald stomped his good foot, hands flailing despite the chains they were kept in for safety reasons. “You have false power! Without your little uniform and your buddies, you’d be nothing! You’d be dead! I would’ve disposed of you long ago for so much as looking at me!” He declared, neck flexing out in anger as he yelled at the officer with complete vigor.

Nashton took a calm breath, stepping closer to the line while the other prisoners looked on. “I’ll tell you this one last time, Penguin.” He warned, hands meeting behind his back, leaning forward to physically impose his height over Oswald. “Listen closely this time, maybe you’ll actually learn.” He invited, a long sneer developed on his mouth. “The next time we cross paths, whenever **_I_** feel it necessary, you’re going to remember your place. You don’t make the rules with this, I do. You don’t pick the times, I do. And you don’t enjoy it, I do.” He enunciated every word harshly, moving a hand from behind himself to take Oswald’s chin, forcing the prisoner to stare at him longer than necessary before pushing the face away. “Now, get moving. We don’t have all night.” 

Oswald was shoved forward aggressively as Nashton walked ahead like nothing had happened. The prisoner in particular in the scuffle made it back to his cell with a scowl, sitting in wait on his bed.

A familiar figure passed by much later when lights were off, slipping inside without issue. Oswald had begun making a habit of greeting Riddler inside the cell door, hugging arms around the demon’s neck with a smile on his face. 

And each time Riddler would hesitate for a moment before returning the hold around Oswald’s back. It took a number of days, but lately there’d been a soft crackling in the fiend’s chest when they made contact. His Darling reacting positively as he warmed the demon into accepting more positive encouragement. 

Gauging from the interactions between Riddler and Ed, something was working.

 

Day 19 broke tradition in routine.

Oswald attempted to enjoy a lunch in peace, going through his daily schedule as he normally had since he arrived. Only now, other than Officer Nashton, he was left alone. The man got through most of his tray before a body sat across from him, making the long seat of the bench creak. “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t you want company? You’re in here for a long time, Penguin. Sure you don’t need a friend? With some benefits.”

“I’ve had enough of your benefits, I assure you!” Oswald’s snapping words caught the attention of the prisoners around them, making a scene of the meeting. “And they are hardly benefits at all!” He stood from his seat, hands slammed down on the table. “That is an outright lie! They are punishments, and you know it! Buttering it up makes no difference!”

“Fine. Friends with punishments, happy?” Nashton returned, staying seated with a smug grin. “Thinking of, I think it’s time for my break. You’ve got five minutes, right? Ahh, what am I saying? You’ve got 25 to life. There’s time.” 

The prisoners sat still, watching what was going on between the two again. One man with a gruesome scar from his forehead to his chin stood, looking over to Penguin’s table. “Look, man… just leave ‘im alone. Give ‘im a break.” He requested, actually taking a stance to stick up for Penguin and the rather rough go he was having.

Some of the beatings were kind of funny, but this was a different level of cruel.

Oswald nodded, gesturing an arm in the other convict’s direction. “See? This gentleman has sense! Thank you.”

Nashton stood from his seat, taking his gun from his holster, placing it between his hand and the table. “Move, Penguin.”

“No! Shoot me if you must, but I am through with this!”

Nashton left his seat, grabbing Oswald by the back of the neck, cocking the gun and pressed the barrel into his skull. “Move. Penguin.” 

“Man, c’mon, leave ‘im. He do-” The helpful convict put his hands up quickly when the gun was pointed at him onlooking guards making no move to stop Nashton or to prevent the latest Penguin thieving. 

“Hm? What was that? I think I missed what you were saying.” Nashton requested, still having Oswald in his grasp. The prisoner trying to help said nothing, staying quiet in his seat and turning around to face his meal again. “That’s what I thought. Move, Penguin.” The gun was returned to the back of Oswald’s head, Nashton marching Oswald out of the cafeteria in front of everyone, getting beyond the first doors with onlookers a mix of amused or regretful. 

When the doors to the cafeteria closed, a loud thumping noise echoed from the other side with a gunshot following. A muffled thump hit the wall and something metal was ripped from where it should be. Officers ran to the door quickly, looking through the windows there to see Croc moving Oswald to the side, Nashton nowhere in sight. They pulled and pushed on the door but it refused to move more than a few centimeters in either direction. They continued to try, however, with Nashton coming into view as he stood in front of the door they were trying to open. 

He wheezed and groaned, clutching his side as he picked his gun off the ground where he dropped it. “Get back in your cell, Jones! I won’t ask again!”

**“Tiny man. Puny man. Abusive bully… He’s done with you.”**

“Yeah? Well I’m not done with him!” Nashton yelled back, firing his gun at Croc. The bullet ricocheted off the beastial man’s scaley skin, making Croc laugh in return. “What…?”

**“Made a mistake, Nashton, now you pay for it.”**

The officers watched on in some horror, hauling on the door again as Croc approached Nashton, officers being commanded to go through doors at the opposite end of the cafeteria. It was the long way around, but it might do the trick. 

**“Prepare to die, Nashton.”**

Croc grabbed the officer by the throat, lifting him off the ground with what could be perceived as a smile across his maw. 

“No! Put me down! I won’t touch him again! I swear! Don’t…!”

Oswald chuckled, watching the display before him. “Finish him, Waylon.”

**“How do you prefer?”**

“I’ve always believed in an eye for an eye. If he thinks penetration is so fun, show him just how fun it is from the other side.”

Waylon listened to the suggestion, pulling back his left arm with a raspy chuckle that sent shivers down the spines of the officers watching, prisoners gathering behind them to see the show. With a heavy swing of his left arm, Croc drove his claws into Nashton’s torso, lifting the guard by the stomach, three knuckles deep in Nashton’s intestines. 

**“No more abusing him for you.”**

Oswald winced with a laugh at the display, blood running down Waylon’s arm and dripping from both his elbow and the man still struggling on the claws.

“...P-Please… you don’t…”

**“Did he say that too? Did you listen?”**

Oswald shook his head adamantly. “He did not listen. Not once.”

With a flick of his hand Waylon cast Nashton’s body to the floor, grabbing the keys off the dying guard’s belt. As he turned around, officers burst into the connecting room from one side. 

**“Goodbye, Friend.”**

Waylon pushed Oswald aggressively towards the officers, distracting them before he ran off through a third doorway. With Nashton’s keys and his strength it was simple to find a way to the yard, getting into his pool to begin his escape. The fences around it were completely electrified and surrounded with guard towers. So they were no option in his escape

The filters and grates in the far corner in his tank were soon ripped off, the crocodilian man swimming through the openings and into the channels that connected to Gotham City River.

Alarms sounded at the prison as word spread about Killer Croc having keys, officers arresting Oswald again, taking him away to his cell while Nashton bled out on the floor. His body was transported to the morgue in the prison when he could no longer hold onto life, put on a table and covered in a sheet put in the holding units until they could get an M.E. to conduct an official statement. 

All of the prisoners were kept in their cells while the situation was being handled, but while their dinners were delivered, Oswald’s was not. He was made to starve that night for his participation in the murder of one of the officers, punished for the time being.

That night at lights out there was an odd calm in the air, nothing but soft mumblings buzzing between cells as the remaining convicts discussed what might’ve happened to Croc. And about the guard who was gutted in the hall due to the team up. 

Oswald lay under his covers that night, collared shirt abandoned by his feet again over the thin blankets, eyes shut but not asleep. The man breathed peacefully, thinking he could doze off with how quiet everything had gotten.

That never lasted though.  
Gotham didn’t know how to stay silent.  
Not for long.

The dim lights that kept the cells somewhat lit shut off, plunging everything into darkness ten minutes after lights out. The prisoners going to their cell doors with a rabble as guards began to shout instructions to each other, flashlights on and searching for the issue.

“Gentlemen, Ne'er Do Wells, Serial killers of all ages!” A voice cut through the darkness, on the second level on cells from one side of the open room. “I present to you a night of opportunity! Welcome to Hell in the Cells!” A green glow emanated from where the voice was calling, moving down the hall where he could be seen the best by two levels of the prisoners.. 

Oswald got up from his bed, looking beyond the bars at the green with a roll of his eyes. “You must be joking…” He muttered under his breath as Riddler came into view, noting the man who was unmissable through the dark with what appeared to be a trenchcoat that lit up like Christmas.

Riddler was not one to make a dramatic scene without a statement piece. What was he going to do? Walk in with dim lights in his suit? No. He deserved better than that.

The demon had gotten into possession of a nearly clear, white jacket. The fabric layered in order to sandwich fiber optic lines throughout the entire trench coat. From standing, pointed, collar tips down to the bottom edge by his knees, across the shoulders and down to the cuff of either sleeve, the jacket was full. Through the optic cables light could easily pass, transporting the selected green light to make the man a beacon in the darkness.

It was impossible to miss him. 

Officers ran to where the lit up being was, flashlights on him with guns drawn. “Put ‘em up! Who are you? You’re under arrest!” Five of them surrounded the lit figure, fingers on the triggers, ready to fire if necessary.

“Gentlemen, there’s no need for rash action. I’m only here to collect what belongs to me, and relatively, I’ll be on my way.” He declared, squinting into the beams of the flashlights behind the purple LED mask he had on. Colored lights around the edges of the mask, its eyes, and nose to keep his identity better hidden from the others.

“Get down on the ground!”  
“Hands in the air!”

“You want to play hardball, do you? Not what I was hoping for, but predictable.” Of course this being the one time any of these men followed the rules they were given for their jobs. “Gentlemen, I present to you, a game. In every one of your uniforms is a remote explosive that will detonate when I hit a little, red button. All you men have to do to disarm them is figure out which one of you can shoot me.” Which, some of that was a bluff, but they could figure out those parts later.

One officer chuckled, gun at the ready. “I think we all can, you neon freak.”

“A) This is not neon, you imbecile. Not in color, nor in lighting mechanism. And B) Actually, only one of you can at a time safely.” Riddler informed them with a long smile. “All of you have rounds that will misfire when the pin hits the bullet, exploding in your hand. And doing severe damage in the process. Now, all of you have one bullet in the magazine to shoot me without harm, but which bullet in the magazine is it?” He chuckled in delight.

Oswald’s hands gripped at the bars as he watched the officers keep Riddler in their sights, curiously watching the display to see just how the plan would unfold. For some reason, the demon wanted to keep this part of the escape relatively secret, so he would simply need to trust the fiends’ choices. Riddler and Ed were presumably still working together, between the two of them, he should be fine. _‘Should’_ and _‘be’_ being very keywords in that sentence.

“If no one shoots me in the next ninety seconds, I let every prisoner here out of their cells at once. If you get the bullet wrong, well, you pay for your consequences _and_ the prisoners are released. If you try to cheat, I let out the prisoners regardless.” Riddler threatened them with something of a quiz, reaching into his pocket to take out a button switch. “Now, let’s play.”

 

Oswald could hear that Riddler was speaking, addressing the police around him, but the specific words he was saying were lost on him. At a point he might’ve been counting, but whatever game he played, the guards seemed to need to go along with him. Of course he’d keep them preoccupied with some sort of distraction method. 

Heavy footsteps walked to Oswald’s cell, obscuring some of the light that surrounded the demon’s at-a-distance body from his view. Oswald retreated into his cell cautiously, unsure what lurked in the shadows before him. “Wh-What do you want?” He questioned, ready to be somewhat brave with bars still between them.

**“Friend.”**

Croc. “Waylon, why are you back? You escaped.”

**“I came to help. Gargoyle filled promise, so I will help.”**

Waylon’s explanation was simple. The two were kind to him, showed him sympathy, and didn’t treat him as nothing but a beast. For that, they had his respect. He was an animal to those who treated him like one, who expected him to be one. And that was neither of his friends. They were… actually quite considerate.

“Then by all means, help away.” Oswald allowed, staying back as Croc grabbed his cell door with his clawed hands, breaking the lock as he forced it open with little effort. The man could see almost nothing, but it sounded like an impressive feat. “Waylon, I hope you’ve been considering my offer of employ. I know shipping yards near water sources that would prosper with a stern hand.”

**“I don’t like jobs.”**

“I promise you will be in charge of how you wish to accomplish things. Casual Friday everyday. Free dinner of whatever carcass you crave. All I need is a deal to help when needed, a few simple tasks to keep in mind. The rest is up to you.” Oswald attempted to bargain with the beastial man who seemed to know exactly where he was in the room, picking Oswald up in one arm, tossing the man over his shoulder with ease before continuing to where he’d been told to go. “Will you consider it?”

**“I’ll consider it, no promises.”**

Oswald grinned in delight in the darkness, watching Riddler’s outrageous jacket shining brightly from the floor below them. If he could manage to convince Waylon into his employ there would be little that could stop him. “Where are we going? Are we not helping him?” The man questioned as the bright light that was Riddler began to shrink as they crossed the room. 

**“No, that’s not the plan. We’re going to _my_ cell, I’ve made an escape.”**

“In your cell? How?”

**“How long can my friend hold his breath?”**

Oswald paused with the thought of a swim at the moment, but seemed like he had little choice in this matter. “Penguins thrive in the water, Waylon. I’ll be fine.” Or at least, he hoped so.

 

The guards jumped when metal was torn from position, their heads turning to the sound, but Riddler kept them focused. “You’ve got 27 seconds left to make a choice. Take a shot in the dark, or face a riot. Potentially both, if you’re thick-headed.” Riddler’s thumb was resting on the button, ready to live up to his threat only if the guards earned it. “Tick tock, boys. You don’t have all day.”

Ninety seconds was specifically chosen because, based on Waylon’s size and speed, it should only take him a minute and a half to get to a point where the officers could no longer catch up with him and Oswald in time. The pair could get away through Croc’s first escape method.

And all he had to do, was die.  
Or escape as well, but his options were open.

“Ten seconds. Any guesses?”

 

Waylon brought Oswald to his old cell, getting in with a key the conspirator of the prison break had given him. He walked inside, setting the man down next to the pool that made up half of his cell floor. “I’m assuming it will be pitch black down there?” Oswald guessed, glancing into the pool.

**“Yes, but I can see. I will swim for us.”**

Oswald let a long breath out of his lungs and he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last one that left him. “Are we… waiting for him?”

**“No. He said to go, so we will go.”**

The man was pulled onto Waylon’s back, instructed to hold on tightly. Oswald hardly had enough time to lock his arms around Croc’s tree trunk of a neck before the larger, creature-like man was diving into the water. His backpack of a person managed a deep, panicked breath, getting it in right before the cool water hit his face.

 

Riddler crossed his arms, button still in hand as he stared at the officer with the maimed hand, rolling his eyes at the cries. “Did you even try to solve the question to know how many bullets you needed to discard for the proper one? No. No you didn’t. Clearly.” He rubbed his thumb against the button, annoyed with the situation. “One simple thing. Math. That was all. Easy, one brain cell required math.” He gave them their chance, now they received their punishment. “I couldn’t have made that easier unless I pulled the trigger myself. Without your guns, since you all can’t seem to solve one simple puzzle so I can imagine your luck with four more, let’s see how you handle this problem.” The demon hit the green button, a number of small, controlled explosions going off in each of the prison cell locks. 

It was time the inmates ran this asylum. 

“Have fun with them, fellas.” Riddler wished to the convicts who walked out of their cells, the group of them looking down on the officers gathered below, their backup finding it difficult to leave the room they were locked in on the other side of the prison. He’d made a brief stop at the beginning of his trip, seems they hadn’t figured out their puzzles either. He couldn’t let others storm in and ruin the quiz without having earned it first. Were his riddles that wonderful, or were they simpletons and a waste of a good brain exercise?

Who was he kidding?  
Of course his riddles were wonderful!

The fiend walked through the crowd of criminals with little difficulty and dropped his switch along the way, more of the convicts focused on the guards they would much rather direct their creativity at. The guy in the light up getup was the one who set them loose in the area, if they had any qualms, they’d get him after. He didn’t exactly blend in, after all. 

Riddler made his way through the halls of the prison, sneaking the same way Waylon had gotten through in order to reach the creature’s cell. The door was still open, the Incubus slipping inside and stared into the generally still water taking up a portion of the floor. He had to ditch the jacket and the mask, the electronics would not do well with the underwater adventure.

“You need to take over before we resurface. After this experience, you’re better suited to handle what he needs.”

_“I don’t know about that.”_ Ed replied when Riddler spoke to seemingly no one in the room, watching as his other half rolled up his sleeves, tucking his glasses into their pants pocket. _“You’ve been getting so good at emotional reaction lately. I’m actually pretty proud of you.”_

“Don’t patronize me.” Riddler scolded, not having any patience to deal with teasing at the moment. They needed to find out if Oswald was out and safe. As much as they could semi-trust Waylon, the crocodilian man was already caught at least once. There was a chance they could’ve been detained again. It was no real victory until they were confirmed free. “I’m no better than I was before. The only difference is I have more tolerance with him, he doesn’t mock me for anything. Like _some_ people do.”

_“Like you’ve ever given me a break from your chitter chatter or constant ‘_ critiques _’, sometimes I get to have a turn.” _Ed answered, very willing to return every favor Riddler had ever given to him.__

___“You’re so sensitive.”  
 _“You’re so emotional.”_  
“Shut up.”  
 _“You first.”__

__Riddler’s fingers slipped under his glasses, rubbing at his eyes in annoyance. This… Why did he put up with this?_ _

__

__Oswald still felt like he was trying to catch his breath, even as he held onto Waylon’s neck, the beastial man swimming above the surface through Gotham Harbour to find a spot he couldn’t smell people and find a way to get Oswald onto dry land. That’s where his job ended. There was supposed to be an area in the harbour with one person, no workers or ship captains and crew, nothing. Where it was though…_ _

__Waylon’s nose caught the smell of someone familiar, swimming to the side of the pier and found a ladder coming up from the water. He scaled to the top, noting the bald man standing next to a long, black car. He sniffed the air again, Oswald gently dropping himself on one foot to the ground almost two feet below from where he held above Waylon’s shoulders._ _

__**“Zsasz?”** _ _

__The man in all black nodded with an excited smile. “And they say you don’t meet new, exciting people after a time.” Zsasz approached Waylon happily, holding out a hand to him. “Victor Zsasz, assassin.”_ _

__**“Waylon Jones, Killer Croc.”** _ _

__The two shook hands, much to the hitman’s delight. “Oh, you are so cool.” Zsasz put his hands in his pockets, staring up at the scaled man. “So are you a demon thing too, or...?”_ _

__**“I have an aggressive genetic condition.”** _ _

__“He’s a man, Zsasz.” Oswald answered, crossing his arms impatiently. “Can we get moving? We are two escaped convicts in the open, in prison clothes!” He reminded the other, leaning forward in his snapping. “And they are soaking wet!”_ _

__“Yeah, but… he’s really cool. Is he coming with us?” Zsasz questioned as he opened the door to the car, not ready to take off yet._ _

__“No, I promised him freedom. He’s welcome to go wherever he wishes from here.”_ _

__“But he’ll work for you, right? Can we go on a job together? Please?!”_ _

__“What job could you possibly-”_ _

__“I want to sit on his shoulders and spin around while firing my guns at targets.”_ _

__**“Bullets do not hurt me.”** _ _

__Zsasz paused for a moment, marvelling at the killing machine. “So… is he single, or…?”_ _

__“Zsasz! Can we go now?!” Oswald yelled, having had enough waiting at this point. And of Zsasz wanting to potentially marry Waylon if only for the shock factor and partnership of crime with the young crocodilian man. “And he’s eight years younger than you.”_ _

__“So… what you’re saying is I can marry him because he’s legal?”_ _

__Oswald got in the car, getting frustrated with his hitman’s fixation. “Zsasz! **Move!** ” _ _

__“Alright, alright. Mr. Testy, I get it.” Zsasz shut the door to the car, looking at Waylon as he rounded the vehicle. “If you need a pretend husband for an insurance claim or just a quiet murder night out… find me. We’ll make plans, it’ll be great!” He promised with a pleased face, waving to Waylon who wasn’t sure how to process what happened._ _

__People made fun of him, people tortured him, people mocked him, or outright tried to ignore him. The man… was strange. He… liked him? As much as Oswald had been good company, generally polite, and nice about most things… The bald man seemed legitimately excited to see him. Weird…_ _

__Waylon walked to the end of the pier, jumping into the water below to disappear from sight, ready to find a new home for himself somewhere along the city’s edges. His old one had been raided and no doubt kept on a file somewhere, so he’d need to find a safe place for himself._ _

__

__Oswald was only too happy to be able to get a proper shower, forgoing the tub until after in order to scrub the grime off himself and get the oils from his hair. He didn’t know when Blackgate was planning on letting him clean himself, but after nearly three weeks, no one had mentioned it._ _

__The fact that neither side of the demon said anything about his state of disarray either spoke the world of their care and kindness to him._ _

__The criminal brushed his teeth several times over, bathed after his shower, got as scrubbed as he possibly could before wrapping himself in a clean robe to stand in front of the mirror he had to wipe down for all the condensation built over the steamed, reflective glass. When he finally could get a clear look at himself he opened the robe, observing the changes that happened to him over the last three weeks. He’d lost weight, that was clear. His body still holding onto patches of discoloration from bruising obtained some time ago._ _

__His fingers trailed over the brown and yellow bruising, sore ribs still hurt under skin, and as if his eyes really needed to look any darker underneath… though… wait, was that from terrible sleep or was that a black eye? To be entirely honest with himself, he wasn’t sure. He was somewhat tanner than he had been before, the still pale strips of skin where his prison tank top was, was proof of that. Time in the yard under the sun with no shade gave him some color that he wasn’t dreadfully fond of. His freckles though, the same freckles his mother had in her youth… they were stood out proudly. The pigmentation having adored the time out in the natural light, allowing them to darken. Across his cheeks and nose, around his face, dusted over his shoulders and chest… there they were._ _

__A knocking on the door alerted Oswald to company, the man glancing at the barrier curiously. “Who is it?”_ _

__“It’s me, Edward.” A muffled voice came from the other side of the door, waiting for his permission to enter. When given, he opened the door, walking in to see Oswald, robe open, staring at himself in close detail. “How are you feeling now that you’ll be a free, but wanted man?”_ _

__Oswald shrugged somewhat, tracing a finger along his jawline, noting that it seemed sharper than it was before. “It’ll not be much different than before, more hiding, but I will live as I had. Less time at the club, but I can make due.” He answered, already in the works of how to get around with less people noticing so that he could conduct his business again. “I’ve hidden in plain sight before, I’ll do so again.” He didn’t like that he seemed thinner… It showed hard times, poverty, difficulties. He needed to gain weight._ _

__Edward nodded, walking closer to the man curiously to try and see what he was looking at. Without the fabric coverings his physical changes were drastic from the time he’d seen Oswald in the tub before his imprisonment. Something he could really admire were the darkened flecks over the man’s skin. While his partner played with his lengthened hair, pulling scissors from a drawer just left of the sink in order to trim what he didn’t want, Edward admired the spotting._ _

__The demon lifted a finger to place on one freckle in particular, eyes now quickly darting to the others surrounding his chosen point. There were so many options._ _

__Oswald could feel Edward tracing over his shoulder, allowing it for the time being as his robe hung from his forearms, the collar of the garment opened wide to hug his mid-back. He trimmed his bangs, letting the forgone hair to drop into the sink, flattening the still damp locks in order to best judge how they could look styled later. He finished with his fringe, cleaning up what he could see around the frame of his face. “What are you doing, Edward?”_ _

__The fiend had been tracing or drawing something on his right shoulder in repetition since he started and now he was curious what the other was so preoccupied with._ _

__“You probably don’t know this because it’d be difficult for you to see, but your freckles here make a nearly perfect penicillin core structure. You even have a freckle for a variable group.” He poked one darkened spot to the most left of the image he’d been imagining in his head._ _

__“Yes, because of its _position_ is why I would be less than knowledgeable of that.” Oswald replied with a fond roll of his eyes, playing with what he left of his sideburns. “Can you finish this? You’re good with details, you should be able to follow lines and trim this shorter, correct?”_ _

__Ed eyed the scissors, finger still occupied with his preference for the penicillin marking. “I am no hairdresser, but I can try.” He agreed, thinking he could very well go along with what was there. It only needed to be shorter, that wasn’t beyond him._ _

__So the demon did what he could. He took much longer than Oswald would have liked, but the Incubus was focused on making everything as symmetrical as he could. Or appearing even, at least. Each little hair was taken away as needed, shed around the man they were taken from. When Edward was done he brushed off the hairs with a cloth, picking them away if they refused to leave._ _

__Something Oswald noted about Edward a long time ago was the demon’s appreciation for detailed work. Things that required his eye and focus. Things he could do without necessarily thinking about them. Where he was preoccupied, but his mind was allowed to wander. Who knew what happened in that noggin when he was set free with downtime, but whatever it was, it let him have his own fun. “Are you finished yet, Dearest?”_ _

__Ed’s head perked up at the use of the nickname, remembering hearing it before when Oswald was choosing them for the sides of the demon. “Oh, I uhh… Yes, I believe I am.” He agreed, setting the scissors on the counter with his hands closed, knuckles of one hand touching the other in front of his torso._ _

__Oswald enjoyed the reaction, ready to begin implementing what little steps he could to win over this side of the Incubus’ emotional attachment further. “Good. Now that I’m finally clean of that terrible place I’m going to find someone to take over that prison. Someone who runs a more strict ship that will keep that place in order. And more under our control.” Oswald adjusted his robe, popping it back up over his shoulders and tying it around his waist._ _

__“May I make a suggestion?” Edward questioned, making his partner pause mid-step with his cut in. “You should sleep first. It would be good for you and I can even give you a little therapy while you do so. It’s been some time since we’ve been able to relax your leg.” The softer side of the demon was as attentive as ever, looking to balance Oswald’s needs first before they dove into business. A mind worked less efficiently when it was hungry, tired, or over worked._ _

__And Oswald had a brain that was worth keeping healthy._ _

__Ed’s attention to personal detail was something Riddler was counting on, wanting the other to use his deeper emotional are and connections to find the best way to care for Oswald after the events of the prison._ _

__The barely clothed man took it into consideration, head turning away as he pondered his options, but the last time he needed rest guns were pulled on him and he was convinced to bed anyway. So regardless of his decision, he didn’t believe he’d be getting away without doing as the demon said. It was maybe two or three in the morning. ...A majority of people would still be sleeping. He… supposed he could wait for them to wake first and then demand a new warden._ _

__“Fine, we’ll go to sleep first, then the search will begin.”_ _

__“And I can tell you about the progress, regression, and changes in the city since the beginning of your absence.” Edward had enough to tell Oswald at this point. The city held onto his leadership for some time during his jailing, but once a few began to drop, so did many. He’d warned Oswald of some of the progress during his jailing, but now he could give a detailed report with papers he’d gathered out of his shifts._ _

__There seemed to be no true loyalty in Gotham._ _

__“Wonderful. I look forward to that.” Oswald’s voice was flat and unimpressed, not wanting to hear how businesses chose to leave his hospitality, but he must. It would be the most accurate way to find a punishment for their insubordination._ _

__Edward walked ahead of them, taking Oswald by the hand to lead him to the bed. The master bedroom now long since fixed and in immaculate condition as if no altercations had ever happened._ _

__The now free man stopped in his closet to retrieve silk black pajamas with gold pinstriping, wanting to be in one of his best after all that time in cheap, scratchy fabrics. With hanger in hand, he glanced to the left, not knowing at all where the flannel bed set came from. That wasn’t at all hi- “Edward?”_ _

__“Yeeees?” A soft return of call came into the closet, clearly the demon was somewhere around the bed._ _

__“What are these ten dollar clothes doing in my five hundred thousand dollar wardrobe?” He questioned, Oswald observing the flannel pants more closely, it looking like something the demon would wear._ _

__There was a small break of silence before an answer came back. “Because it seemed classless to drape them over your furniture that is likely more expensive than the contents and rent of my apartment combined?”_ _

__The man scoffed a laugh, letting his hand fall away from the cheap coverings. “I suppose that’s understandable.” Oswald changed, hanging his robe back on a hanger for the time being, grinning at that sign. He stepped out when he was changed, fastening the last few buttons on his pajama top. “It seems you’ve made yourself comfortable here in my absence.”_ _

__“Yes, I have. It made the most sense to stay here, especially when we’ve needed to share orders with the others.”_ _

__“And you’ve been sleeping… where? If anywhere at all?”_ _

__Ed hopped onto the plush bed, pulling off the t-shirt he’d put on after the swim out of croc’s prison cell. The clothes had been waiting on docks in a plastic bag hidden out of sight, there for him to discreetly change into in order to leave the scene without suspicion. “When I’ve felt a need to I’ve slept here, in your bed. It smells a bit like you, so I might have disturbed how the mattress was for your form. My apologies for potentially throwing off your sleeping space.”_ _

__If Ed wasn’t so adorably attentive in his ways, it would seem much more unsettling that he was drawn to stay in Oswald’s bed without the man around just to have his smell and take his spot on the bed. Maybe he didn’t have to put forth just as much effort as he believed to make both halves of the demon crazy about him. Perhaps he missed Ed’s underlying feelings because he hadn’t been around as often with the prison time._ _

__“No need. I’ll make it comfortable again, even if you have.” Oswald brushed off the need to apologize, moving to the bed but stood beside it as thoughts crossed his mind._ _

__“Is something troubling you, Oz? Is it the bed? It’s the bed, isn’t it…?”_ _

__Oswald shook his head, a long grin taking up residence on his mouth as he began to unbutton the shirt he spent time doing up in the first place. “What would you say to me giving you… personal time with me?”_ _

__“What uhh… what does that entail?” The fiend questioned, sat upright on the bed with his legs spread long in front of him, comfortable at the foot of the bed where he normally was for therapy sessions._ _

__“Well, it would be me. And you. And my exposed skin, with you all over me?” Oswald described, getting to the bottom of his torso covering shedding the shirt off of his shoulders, but let it rest at his elbows and around his back._ _

__Ed’s eyes bounced quickly from the man’s eyes to the bared, broad shoulders of his partner. The more tanned skin next to paler patches where the tank top refused to let him darken. “I… I-I uhh…” This wasn’t quite right… this wasn’t what Oswald normally wanted… Had all those _private times_ at the prison actually effected him?_ _

__Oh dear…_ _

__Oswald turned to dig into the nightstand beside the bed, taking something out from the drawer, hiding it inside the top for the moment. “You must promise you will take personal responsibility to clean up afterwards, but I can allow it on rare occasion. If tomorrow is a majority of handling recapped business and explanations… it isn’t like anyone is going to see me anytime soon. So this makes little difference.”_ _

__Edward swallowed thickly, having an idea of where this could be going “Oswald, I-”_ _

__“Ed.” The man cut him off, not about to stop at this moment while he was on a roll. Oswald turned around, the secret item now in front of him and still out of sight as he dropped the shirt to the floor. “If I gave you my body, can I trust you with it? To take care of it?”_ _

__“I… Well… of course I would…” There was little he wouldn’t ever do for Oswald._ _

__“Then I can allow this.” The now half naked man glanced over his shoulder, the item held up in Ed’s sight inches from Oswald’s face. “I give you my permission to do what you like.”_ _

__The Incubus was frozen, observing what was in his partner’s hand with shock across his face. “Oz… you… you truly mean it?” Ed moved onto his hands and knees, crawling across the mattress to get closer to the human, removing the item from his grip. “Are you entirely positive this is what you want?”_ _

__“It’s what you deserve. You and Riddler put in a lot of time, effort, and planning into not only helping me escape from that hell, but to take care of me as well. In many more ways than one. For that, I’m eternally grateful to you both. This is… something I can allow as your thank you for everything that’s happened.” Oswald described. He had a feeling he was going to regret this in the morning, but for now he was comfortable enough._ _

__“This is going to make such a mess through the night.”_ _

__“I’m aware.”_ _

__Ed cautiously moved forward, uncontainable smile spreading slowly across his mouth, even as he held the outside of Oswald’s arms with his hands, pressing two kisses to the back of the man’s shoulder blade affectionately. “You realize after this it will be unwise to sleep on your back?”_ _

__“I’ll make due, Edward.”_ _

__“Then please, lay down.” The demon offered. Oswald followed the direction, taking his time to get comfortable on his stomach, his injured leg twisted in a way he could agree with for some period of time. “This is so exciting.” Edward mumbled more to himself, item in hand as he considered his beginning strategy. “Obviously I should begin with what I know already.”_ _

__Oswald could feel the tip of the pen carefully being pressed against his skin, the ballpoint implement leaving a trail of blue between the freckles on the back of his shoulder. “Is that penicillin you’re beginning with?”_ _

__“Yes, excellent memory.” Edward grinned, moving himself to straddle Oswald’s lower back to have the best angle of every mark, spot, and freckle on the man’s skin. “Fairies would have torn you apart as a child and would’ve have made your skin a prized trading item for nests.” The Incubus spoke with what could have been mistaken with some sort of pride. Perhaps the mythological creature from another realm simply pleased that he would have such a coveted partner even in the eyes of other species._ _

__The man laughed breathily, eyebrows knitted in some confusion. “Thank you… I think.”_ _

__“I do mean it, Oswald.” Edward continued to say as though this was a common compliment many heard in their lives. “They would be so annoyed that they wouldn’t be able to have you now.” The fiend spoke, supporting himself with one hand against Oswald’s back while the other went to work on the ammonium nitrate he knew he pinpointed._ _

__“If you need other colors to highlight… whatever it is that you’re doing, there’s also black, red, and green pens in the stand as well.” Oswald allowed. If he was already being drawn on, what difference was color going to do? It would help separate things for Ed. He knew how the Incubus loved to categorize and color code things._ _

__The pen stopped against the man’s skin, earning Oswald’s curiosity and some of his concern._ _

__“Edward…?”_ _

__“Is it too soon to say… I love you?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, got another one up.   
> Now that my schedule is more open again I can get more updates of this out.  
> We're back on track, ya'll!


	20. Bribe And Go Seek

Oswald was somewhat frozen in place as Ed went back to drawing against his skin, the man wondering if he’d imagined the words for a moment. “You… what?”

“I love you.”

“Oh. That is… exactly what I thought you had said.” So he hadn’t misheard it. The thought made his heart race more as he considered just what this could mean. He’d meant to make both sides swoon, but perhaps Edward really was further than he’d first imagined. Was there something he’d missed, some signs he hadn’t been aware of? Did Ed just use those words when he was incredibly fond? 

Edward drew several different core structures out of Oswald’s freckled back, only taking a moment to identify a number of familiar shapes and connections. He tried to go for more complex ones, make it something of a challenge to himself in finding just the right combinations of markings. “If you don’t feel entirely the same, I understand, but… I can’t help but to have noticed your connection with _him_ and even myself over the last few weeks. You make an impact with us, Oswald, I’m not sure how much you’ve noticed that.” He spoke, putting one pen color away in order to make way for another. The demon stretched over the man he refused to put weight on, still straddled over him safely. Edward opened the drawer to retrieve another pen, getting the red to add to the drawings he’d already began.

“I’ve been aware that we all very strongly preference each other, I suppose I hadn’t realized how much with you both. I-” Oswald cut himself off of further thought, not wanting to push it too far as he now had himself to figure out. 

“You…what? What is it, Oswald?” Edward asked, switching out his pen colors again when he could make some morse code out of large and small freckles. He couldn’t spell out too much, but he could make a couple simple words.

Oswald shrugged his shoulders lightly, brushing off his idea. “Nothing, it’s nothing. Nothing all that important.” He commented, hoping to move on without a lot of struggle. “I also very much appreciate you both. I wouldn’t allow you to do _this_ unless you were the most important, so I share your sentiments.” The man hadn’t been expecting a love confession right after he got out of prison, but both of them had done what was possible to get him out. The two sides had seemingly worked together well just to remove him from that place.

They’d been attentive, caring, kind, aware, supportive, apologetic… 

If he hadn’t realized how far along they were… he might have not clued into it with himself either. What did he feel for them? Obviously something, otherwise he wouldn’t be so focused on trying to increase their liking of him. Oswald sought no one’s approval except for very few that he cared about. Usually his mother and whatever boss he had at the time. Though the latter normally lead to a point where he betrayed them to get ahead with either himself or whatever boss was above them. It was difficult to genuinely care for someone without using them.

Ed and Riddler had begun that way, he was more than ready and willing to use their power and their abilities to his advantage, but now… Now wasn’t like then. Now he did care for them. He wanted to see them pampered and cared for, wanted them to get everything they needed. Which brought a thought to the man. “I should feed you at the next opportunity.” He spoke over the arm he rested his head on, laying relatively still for Ed to continue his art and science. 

“It can wait until tomorrow. I’m feeling fine and this is getting interesting.” The demon answered, more absorbed in the ink he put over Oswald’s shoulders. He made one pattern after another, using different colored inks for different purposes. Some of Oswald’s scars got in the way of perfect patterns, but he couldn’t complain too much. This was something he was sure he wouldn’t get another chance at, except on a very rare occasion. Maybe an anniversary of some kind. 

Oswald chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “You’re enjoying yourself, are you?”

“Very much so.”

Oswald was glad that Ed could honestly enjoy himself, the tone the demon had came across his ears as melodic and pleased. The man yawned as his body was relaxed, thinking further on just what it was he felt for both sides of the Incubus. It couldn’t be beyond the realm of thought that he loved them too, right? 

His mother always said you only get one true love, but was this what it felt like? He’d never been in love before, let alone true love… he’d been enamored with the thought of someone before, but love? Not so much. Neither Ed nor Oswald noticed as the man drifted off, the dragging of the pens across his skin putting him to sleep as he began to rid himself of the exhaustion and damage of Blackgate.

Ed would only realize fifteen minutes later when he would try to ask Oswald a question, only to get no response in return. And it wasn’t like the man to not answer him with some sort of reaction.

His curiosities would need to wait until morning, and he’d caused quite a bit of damage with the pens. He could pause for the time being.

 

Oswald’s eyes cracked open slowly, the man’s waking mind gradually taking in his much more peaceful surroundings. For a time, this felt like a dream. His comfortable bed, no one screaming at him to wake, soft sheets on and around him.

His head turned, cluing into the weight on and around his body, eyes focusing on a figure much too close to himself. “Good morning, Sleepyhead.” The sudden voice made Oswald jump, his muscles clenching in an automatic response, making him groan at the pain in his ribs. “Oh, right. We should get ice for that…”

Oswald took a moment to compose himself again, getting his heart to stop throwing itself against his ribcage violently. He hated scares while he was in bed. So, so much, he hated them. “Don’t bother, nothing can be done about them anyway.” Ribs were notoriously a nuisance for their lack of ability to be cared for. Wrapping around the torso and that hardly did anything. He glanced over one shoulder, upper lip pulled down and eyes to one side to get something of a view of what Ed had done. “Oh, God… I knew that was a poor idea. What did you do? You used every color…” The man sighed, almost horrified at the thought of what his back must look like as a whole. “Alright, tell me what you did. How did you organize me?”

Ed was still in the place he took his nap during last night. The demon having rested his head on the top side of Oswald’s folded arm, the man having been using his own wrist as a pillow and had left the entirety of his wing-like bent arm out for his partner’s use. Ed’s arm laid across Oswald’s lower back, long legs stretched out on his half of the mattress. “Interesting that you ask, I managed to make several different ways to think of your freckles.”

“Lovely. And they are?”

“Blue is any chemical core structure, like your penicillin over here.” Ed moved the arm off of Oswald’s lower back, using a finger to trace where the marking was, threaded and woven with several other colors. “Red is where I started seeing a connect-the-dots game, and although a little blocky at angles you have a question mark right here.” The fiend followed the red ink to the left of Oswald’s left shoulder blade. “Black is actually the construction of several scatter diagrams, one on the left, one around your neck, and one on the right. All three have a common variable of our time together, and the second variable differs between them. Each freckle marked seemed to fit for where each point should be. Then there’s green. That is morse code, where the larger freckles are long and the smaller ones are short, I made a few letters though together it makes little sense.” Ed admitted to his categories, thinking he had done well considering the random placement of each pigmented spot. 

Oswald could imagine the hell of the overlapping colors and spots, but it seemed Ed had a productive evening even after he fell asleep. “I hope you’ve committed this to your impressive memory because now you’re going to remove it.” The man also had some fear that if he rolled over he’d make a smeared mess of his sheets. As much as he trusted that his cleaning staff could remove the stains, he’d also rather throw them out and buy new sheets. “Come, you have a job to do.” He stated, slipping out from under Ed and stood beside the bed, clad in his pajama pants. 

Ed watched as Oswald left his hold, feeling somewhat let down by the loss of contact, but the hope returned again when a hand was offered for him to take to get off the bed. The Incubus took the appendage, picking himself off the mattress to follow Oswald to the on-suite bathroom. Water was run into the tub, steam rising from the water’s surface in the deep, clawfoot bath. Ed closed over the bathroom door, awkwardly covering his eyes with a hand as he waited for the other to slip into the water. 

Oswald abandoned his pants on the counter, having no shame around the demon as he dipped his fingers into the water, testing the temperature. He hardly paid attention to Ed by the door, but he knew what the other was doing. “I know I’m not much to look at, but you have no reason to avert your eyes.” He pointed out bluntly, thinking if he could dig even slightly at Ed’s need to show appreciation that he may be able to get the demon to stop giving him such unnecessary privacy. 

“What? I-... no, that’s not it.” Ed’s hand dropped quickly, seeing a completely nude Oswald still hunched over the tub, the demon’s jaw clenched as he attempted not to look away out of courtesy again. 

“Then you can desist whatever you think you’re doing.” Oswald got comfortable in the warmth of the tub by sinking down to his shoulders in the water, letting go of a long sigh at the relaxation it brought to his muscles. “I trust you and Riddler the most with myself. If anything were to happen in an inconvenient manner, either of you need to be able to see me in any state.” He spoke, already trusting Zsasz enough to get him to whatever undress level needed to get a job done. “I can’t have your need for politeness get in the way of my life.”

If it came down to living, it was a small price to pay. 

Ed nodded his head in understanding, moving cautiously from his place near the door to stand next to the tub where he could fulfill what was needed of him. He was told that he would need to take responsibility for his mess, and he should be able to both see Oswald unclothed and treat him with the same level of respect. “I understand, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

Oswald’s brow raised before an amused smile crossed his face. “Do you now?”

“I do.”

“You do… and what? What are you missing?”

“I do, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

“Good. Now clean your mess.” He demanded of the fiend, pointing to his back with an impatiently moving index finger. As fun as it must have been for Ed, it was now time to wipe the chalkboard clean and move on. Though he did love it when Ed used his name to address him, it did make him feel some level of higher control and have a position of power when it was used towards him.

“Of course, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

“And Ed?” Oswald began before the demon could start to search for what he needed. He could see brown eyes meet his own, expectantly waiting for a continuing note to go from. When he knew he had Ed’s undivided attention, only then did he proceed. “I’m… not sure if I love you, but I do have love for you.” He stated, believing that to be the best he could provide at the moment. He felt very strongly about the other, and his other’s other half, but real, honest to goodness love? Maybe that needed more thought. There hadn’t been much free time to think on things like feelings, there’d been too much surrounding his mind otherwise.

Including the need to reclaim his city. 

“Edward, how is the city doing since our spurning of order?” Oswald questioned, his feet against one end of the tub, knees near the surface of the water but not out of it, leaning forward into one thigh while his worse leg began to rotate outwards into the side of the porcelain bathroom fixture. He moved to make room for Ed who collected a washcloth and a well used bar of soap. 

Ed soaked the cloth in the water, building a lather on it with the soap before he began his work to remove the busy scribbles he’d drawn across his partner’s back. “It seems that the police are having difficulties in handling the increased crime rates. There doesn’t seem to be any up and coming personalities we should be truly wary of, most of them should be easy to do away with.”

“See to it that we begin putting a noose around their necks now, then we can be ready to drop them at a moment’s notice.” Oswald gave his command, wanting everything to be perfect for his criminal takeover. He missed being in control. He hated others dictating what he did. He had enough of the last almost month with people telling him everything he should and had to do. He was the man in charge! He was the one who called the shots! HE kept Gotham in check! And **HE** kept the city running as smoothly as it had like no one could. Gotham owed him everything, and instead they threw him away like a beaten fighting dog. He seethed in the water, arms curled tightly around the one leg that could stay ahead of him. 

Oswald tensed when a hand rested on his shoulder, rubbing the strained muscles leading into his neck, the man clearly caught up in the thoughts that rattled around in his head. “We’ll take it back, Oswald. With your leadership, my organization, and _his_ ability. We will take your city back.” 

The man in the water hadn’t realized he’d been projecting his feelings through his body, usually the bath was one of the few places he could allow himself to reflect without needing to lock away everything he was going through. He could react and he could physically reflect without judgement. His mouth adjusted as he thought, a hand raising to rest over the one that the Incubus set on him. He held the appendage carefully as he continued to think, hand making continual adjustments around the one he had. “I’m glad that you are here during this. If something like this was to happen and I was alone, I would have much less confidence, I think.” He wouldn’t be entirely lost, he’d figure something out eventually, but having the demon about did bring him comfort. And there was always Zsasz, but as loyal as he was, the hitman didn’t always listen or put his heart into things.

Ed kept his mind on his mission, washing the pen off of Oswald’s back with care and precision. “I’m glad that I could make such a positive difference for you.” It made the better half of the fiend feel great that he could make a situation feel changed in a better way for Oswald, leaving his hand where it was held. His spark crackled in delight when the man’s head sunk to the side, resting on their hands while he considered the situation ahead of them. “Whatever you need, we’ll see to it that it happens.”

“Has _he_ been around recently?”

Ed paused, trying to recall even a pressure in his head lately, but he couldn’t think of one that had happened recently. “No, I don’t believe _he_ has.”

“Do you know why?”

“I don’t. If I were to guess though, I think it’s been a very… development filled time for him. _He_ doesn’t grow very much and is very rooted in who he is.” Ed explained, continuing to scrub ink off of the skin of Oswald’s left shoulder. “In the last twenty days, I believe that he’s made a lot of growth emotionally. _He_ could be tired, avoiding, scared, thinking… I’m not sure entirely. I could see if I could get _his_ attention?”

“No, no need. If _he_ needs time then he can have it.” Oswald denied, keeping his cheek rested against their joined hands. He took no offense to Riddler’s disappearance. He’d like to know the other half of the demon was okay, but he would show up again when he was ready. There was no need to apply unneeded pressure. “After this we will go through the files you’ve collected and compiled to find a more suitable Warden for Blackgate.” If only to make any possible future trips to that hell more tolerable. “Ed, how would you feel about framing a corrupt man of an even worse crime to make room for better management?”

Ed grinned at the thought, restocking the soap on his cloth to keep his work moving efficiently. “That sounds like I might be creating a crime scene of my own device.”

“Whatever you deem fit, see to it that he is framed for it. I only have one request to be added into your scenario. Whatever it is that you decide you wish to create.”

“Anything you wish, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

Oswald began to entirely relax into Edward’s scrubbings, letting the fiend soothe him. “See to it that whatever it is, it’s bad enough that he is kept in the worst areas in Blackgate, surrounded by the most obscene and demented in that prison. I want to hear that he suffers every moment he’s imprisoned. I need that revenge.” The man requested, believing that he was owed that much for what the Warden had allowed to happen to him. 

Edward knew the prison had left something of a mental speedbump for Oswald, even for the short time he was there, it had been especially made into a personal tormented hell for him to waste away in at first. Oswald needed an eye for an eye. He wanted the Warden to hurt like he had. “I can promise that I will. He will know a greater torture for what he allowed to happen to you.” 

“...Thank you.” 

Ed leaned forward to kiss the back of Oswald’s head, the very one that kept their joined hands pinned to the man’s shoulder. If there was something Oswald needed, he would be sure to accomplish it as best he could. Scheming wasn’t normally his job, but he could build a crime scene just like he could dissect one. 

And for Oswald, he’d make it good.

“Edward?”

“Yes, Oswald?”

The man in the tub paused for only a moment, rotating his head slightly and lifting his hand in order to kiss over the demon’s knuckles with a devious smile blooming across his mouth. “We should throw a party.” He decided in that moment, wanting something grand for his return to the city. “Invite everyone we know. Friend and enemy alike, be sure they all receive one.”

“Oswald, I don’t think-”

“Ah, bup-bup.” Oswald cut off Edward with a raised hand, not wanting to hear this idea be rejected. “I’ll be hosting a party at the Iceberg Lounge tomorrow night, Edward. And that is that. I think this is just what we need after such a stressful event has concluded.”

Ed continued to scrub at Oswald’s shoulders, ridding the man of at least half of the markings at this point. “What are you planning, Oz?”

Oswald smiled as he began to play with the water, hovering a hand over the surface before violently plunging the appendage underneath with a dangerous sneer. “You will find out, Ed. I will need your assistance for some of this and we only have a day to prepare. We are going to remind them all of who is in charge in this city and why.”

 

**“What do you mean he broke out?!”** Barbara’s fist hit her desk, knocking over her liquor glass without much care, she’d have it cleaned later. “Who?! Who did it?! We’ve barely seen the Grinch running around lately, he wasn’t near… the…” Barb went quiet for a long moment, her head dropping forward slightly. “Oh Tabithaaa?”

The she-devil didn’t like how her human business partner’s voice got so sweet and musical in tone. “...Yes?” She was never actually happy when she sounded like that, something was about to happen.

“You did fully confirm that _was_ Nashton that you interrogated, right? Birth certificate, driver’s license, ID badge, everything?”

“I can say I don’t know everything about humans, but they don’t just carry their birth certificates on them constantly. His ID badge said he was Nashton. While I was torturing him, he said he was Nashton.” Tabitha shrugged, not sure what she was supposed to say at that point. “He was Nashton.”

Barb wasn’t so sure, her face hovering centimeters away from her hands as to not smear any of the makeup she was wearing. “I need you to go back and find out what happened to that _‘Nashton’_ you think you tortured and do it again.” She demanded impatiently, sitting down in her desk chair to grab a phone and begin her calls.

“And what’re you doing?”

“ **I** am going to do something actually useful and I’m going to find out if anyone’s seen beak or tail feathers of Penguin yet.” She spoke sharply, using her rotary phone to begin her work. A well manicured nail fit in the slot of the phone, twirling around the turning selector to find her contacts, ready to dig as deep as possible to figure out where the thorn in her side had gone. “If I find him, I hope you can actually finish the job this time. And focus on Penguin. His tag along isn’t the threat, he is.”

“He’s just a hum-”

“ _Don’t. You. Dare._ ” Barbara warned Tabitha, holding up an index finger to silence the she-devil before her. “Don’t even try it. You’ve underestimated him… what? Two or three times now? And how’s that turned out? He’s only human, but we humans have been taking advantage of everything since we were created. We evolved to take what we want. Even if your kind invented lying and deception, **we** perfected it.” She maintained her stance and power, glaring Tabitha down from her seat. 

Tabby went quiet, staring back at the human she made a deal with, a knot in her throat forming as she attempted to keep her emotions in check. “I’ll kill him. Penguin is the focus.”

“Say that again, I want to make sure you _actually_ know what you’re doing this time.” 

“I’ll kill Penguin. He’s the focus.”

Barbara nodded, leaning into the phone receiver she pressed to her ear. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” She turned her attention to a voice on the other end of her call, spinning in her chair to show her back to Tabitha. “Helena? Yes, it’s me. Long time no see, I need a favor.” 

The she-devil stood quietly in place, realizing the culmination of her failures had lead them to this place. Clearly she needed a new tactic. She was going to live up to her deal, she wouldn’t let this fall through and she wasn’t going to fail Barbara. She never had before, she wasn’t going to start being a failure now.

 

Waylon had time to think as he made his new home in a different section of water system under Gotham. He made his nesting grounds, filling an intersection of the tunnels with bones from his meals, old blankets or clothes from the homeless who wandered the labyrinth in search of a place to squat, sticks, mud, anything he could get his hands on in order to form a makeshift bed. He was crafty. Waylon knew some basics of a survivalist resourcing that suited his own lifestyle. He swam through the shallow waters, committing to memory the tunnels available to him and where each of them could lead him if needed. 

He swam gently through the higher tides of the early afternoon, eyes glancing up to the grates every now and then, stalking someone above he could tell wouldn’t be missed if they just so happened to disappear from an everyday schedule. He paused when something didn’t feel right. His eyes were above water level, but lifted the rest of his head out as well to get a smell of what was around him. Someone was there… in his home. Someone small and fearful… 

A long hiss escaped the corners of his mouth, the crocodilian man turning around to find the source of the smell. How dare some regular person infiltrate his home… 

It only took minutes for Waylon to cross a long distance, adept at swimming like any shark in the sea. He found the reason for the smell, a young woman with curly brown hair was taped to a post that was stood on a small section of walkway beside the water’s edge.

**“Who are you? Why are you here?”**

The woman shrieked and flailed as best she could, but even her mouth was covered to refrain her from making too much racket. She couldn’t be alerting those above of a possible issue, after all. 

“I didn’t know if you liked ‘em better alive or dead, if it mattered. I don’t know, thought this way you could kind of pick for yourself.” A male voice behind Waylon somewhat surprised him, having been fixated on the woman and hadn’t noticed the more subtle scent of the man behind him. “Sorry for barging in, just wanted to give you a _‘Welcome home’_ present.”

**“How did I not smell you?”**

“Well, you know, funny thing about that.” Zsasz brushed a hand over the top of his smooth head, somewhat proud of himself. “People have been disguising themselves nose-wise from animal senses for a long time. It took some reading, and I need to throw out this suit now, but I might have been wandering around here for some time while you were gone to blend into this area in order to surprise you.”

**“Why surprise me? What is your problem?”**

Victor shrugged his shoulders, gesturing to the woman in the maid’s outfit with a smile. “You’re just super cool. And I think we could make some real destruction together. Boss has no doubt got plans to turn things around now that he’s back, I’d love to team up with you to make a statement against some of these guys running around above. Put some real fear into them, it’d be fun!”

**“Not interested.”**

“What…?” 

**“I’m not interested. Take your woman and leave.”**

Zsasz was not one to give up easily, he was as stubborn as Oswald was, but usually more subtle. “No.” Except this time. This time he had little wish for subtlety. 

**“Do you value your life?”**

“I value it, but a life’s not worth much if you don’t get what you want, right?”

**“What do you want, Zsasz?”**

Victor couldn’t help but be a little giddy at that, his name sounded extremely cool in Waylon’s low, graveled voice. “I want to team up with you. I want to see what happens when a group of low-level thugs see you and scream. I want to increase some of my efficiency, be able to get more marks. You can help me do that.”

**“Marks?”**

Zsasz nodded excitedly, pulling up his shirt sleeve to show Waylon his forearm where older, healed slices sat in his skin. “These. These are my marks. Everytime I kill someone, free them of their struggles and the trap of a life they have, I cut a mark. Makes me feel better. My skin itches if I can’t do it after I’ve done my job.” He cut himself semi-frequently. Every time he completed a hit, when he killed someone, their lives were added to a tally into his skin. Several of the tally marks were reasonably fresh, three of them brighter red and scabbed over.

**“Why do you do it?”**

“Told you, makes me feel better.”

Waylon thought it over, looking back to the woman who cried behind the tape and her restraints. People always called him an animal. They screamed like her, assumed he was a beastly creature, that he had no reason or feeling. They feared him immediately. It was only people like Ed, Oswald, and Zsasz who approached him with any reason and understanding. Treated him as though he had some humanity left and wasn’t just a beast to scream at. The thought of the woman’s assumptions on him bubbled anger in the pits of his stomach. Waylon stood tall in front of her, hissing in his throat as he used his nearly two foot height advantage against her.

**“Are you afraid?”**

The woman gave a muffled scream, her feet kicking weakly at the base of the post, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t seem very confident in her chances. Not that she should expect to act any differently. She faced a beast of a man she’d never thought possible before, gagged and bound as a present to him. No matter the outcome, no part of this looked good for her. 

**“Wrong answer.”**

 

By nightfall Oswald had invitations sent out to everyone important in the city. Anyone of status, anyone of power, people that opposed him, and people that supported him. All were invited to attend his _‘Jailbird Soiree’_ and were expected to dress in their best or else they weren’t getting in. By then it was common knowledge that he’d been broken out of Blackgate, and he expected the police to be there in some show of force, _but_ he had an idea to keep them from getting to him before he had his chance to fulfill his desires.

 

“He’s inviting _us_ to a party tomorrow night? What does he think he’s doing?” Barbara didn’t like how this felt, but she couldn’t deny that a party might be just what was needed. “Whatever. If he wants to be an easy target, sounds just peachy to me.” She tossed the black cardstock onto her desk. “Tabitha, sweetie, we’re going out shopping. We have a party to attend.”

 

Zsasz had returned to work when he could, getting word of Oswald’s party when he did and was looking forward to the possible chaos that could happen under his boss’ command. Nothing said party like a room full of people and Oswald Cobblepot wanting to prove a point.

 

Jim Gordon was one of the first to hear about Cobblepot’s breakout, and was less than impressed that Oswald seemed to be there to attend his own prison break party. He didn’t imagine Penguin to be that dense, but he could be so brash. Naturally, he had to attend. If it really was Oswald then he had to take the escapee back to Blackgate.

 

Waylon heard of the party later that evening, Zsasz coming down to his home with a proposition and a smile. He didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t exactly fit in. Though Zsasz was making rather tempting sounding promises.

 

Tabitha was getting more and more annoyed, not wanting to go to the party, but knew that she had to in order to complete her deal. She’d kill Oswald, they’d slaughter the Incubus, everything would be back to how it was. And she could get away from the blonde that had more control over her decisions than she’d like to admit. 

 

The next night, Gordon was in his squad car with Harvey beside him, pulling up to lines of stopped traffic blocks away from the lounge they were attempting to get to. Cars were stopped entirely, shut down, and had people leaving the automobiles in lanes that wouldn’t be moving any time soon. Gordon groaned in annoyance, head falling back against the headrest. “No choice but to go forward.” 

Harvey let out a long sigh, glancing over to Jim before unbuckling his seatbelt with a huff. “Fine. I’ve already had enough exercise for today, but fine. I guess we walk.” He agreed as he got out of the squad car, slamming the door behind him as he walked into the street with well dressed people on their way to a building three blocks down with spotlights filling the air above it. 

“What is he up to…?” Jim questioned, locking the car, tucking his gun into the holster inside his jacket then adjusted the garment over his shoulders. “He knows he’ll be arrested, he knows he’s an escaped convict on a murder case. What is his angle?”

“Maybe he’s as insane as we thought, you think about that?” Harvey questioned his partner, fixing where his pants sat on his hips as two beautiful women in long gowns passed him. The detective nodded his head at the pair with a sly smile, giving them a wink as they strolled by.

Jim rolled his eyes, waving Bullock forward as he walked towards the club with a line of people he could see from their position, looking to get to the party the city was abuzz with. 

It took the detectives ten minutes, but they got to the front of the club, walking beyond the line to head for the door, both going for their badges as they approached the location many were hoping to get through that night. 

“Detective Jim Gordon, Detective Harvey Bullock.” Jim spoke, flashing his badge to the bouncer that was actively preventing lesser bodies from entering the building. “We have the right to believe prison escapee, Oswald Cobblepot, is inside this establishment tonight. You need to let us in.”

Zsasz stood at the door, checking his nails out of boredom with a clipboard in one hand, glancing at it lazily. “Do you have an invitation?” 

“Invi- Do you understand obstruction of justice, baldy?” Harvey stepped forward with impatience, questioning Zsasz with a pointed finger.

Zsasz stared back at Bullock with a frown. “First, this is a medical condition. Rude.” He used a hand to gesture to his face, unamused with the shot at his hairlessness. “Second, no invitation, no entry. Simple as that, _Detective_.” He spoke with some spite, keeping to his job and letting in those who were directly invited and those who would make a difference in their show that night.

“Listen to me, bub, you’re going t-”

“Waylon! We’ve got rowdy guests.”

Harvey and Gordon both froze at the sight of a large beast stepping out from the club, walking onto the sidewalk beside Zsasz. His scaled chest not as exposed to the open air with the white singlet he wore, clawed feet touching the concrete beneath him. He was wearing reasonable black trousers and a belt though, something custom made that morning to give him anything else to wear other than the prison garments to blend in with the environment more.

With what little time they had, a full suit wasn’t possible, but it worked well enough.

**“No invitation, no entry. Is there a problem?”**

“Wh-What the hell is that?!” Harvey questioned, backing off from the crocodilian man, not thinking that tussling with the beast was in their best interest. 

“It’s a Waylon, apparently.” Jim answered in return, standing his ground but he was more than cautious about the new figure denying their entry to the club. “Sorry for bothering you both, we’ve misplaced our invitation, we’ll be back.” 

“I bet you will. You wouldn’t want to miss tonight.” Zsasz teased them with a smirk, watching the detectives walk away from the door so he could focus once more on letting in only the best of the best while Waylon returned inside until he was needed again.

Harvey hit Jim in the arm as they walked away, staring his partner down with his hands going to his hips. “We could’ve walked in like we owned the place, but nooooo… _someone_ had to throw away that stupid piece of paper that would’ve gotten us in.”

“Harvey, they wouldn’t have let us in no matter what we had. Invitation or not, Zsasz, or their new friend, would’ve kept us out. Time to find another way in.” He spoke, looking around the nearby buildings to find an alley, taking Harvey with him to hopefully find a less guarded door into the club.

They passed by a couple women who hadn’t noticed them, the pair walking up to the door with invitation in hand, passing it off to Zsasz who checked the clipboard he had and nodded, allowing the two inside without any issues or trouble. 

“Enjoy your evening, Ladies.” He surveyed the line, seeing who was going to spread the word the best if inside the club. 

The pair of women nearly glide inside, one on the arm of the other as they made their way through the crowds of socialites and journalists. The blonde had her hair pushed back and a short dress that clung to her to stay on. Her dress a navy blue in crushed velvet with a halter that wrapped around the back of her neck, several peephole openings down the center of her chest to her stomach. Different crystals littered the bottom of the dress like it was dipped in them, causing her to sparkle when the light hit them.

With her was her partner in a dress that had a basket woven-like design in all leather, studded in the center of each square the weave created was a crystal like the ones on the blonde’s dress. The other woman was dressed in black, unlike the blue beside her, shifting her shoulders under the sleeveless garment that also hugged around her neck like a collar. The knee length would have restricted her movement, but the slits on the side kept her mobility open to her needs.

“Look alive, Tabby. Those two could be anywhere, and we need them gone. If we haul Penguin out of his little party, we could have him done with in no time. When you find the Incubus, keep him busy. Pull that trick of yours and distract him, I’ll get Penguin out of the way and you get rid of your problem with the walking cactus. Soon we’ll have both of them gone and we’ll be having our own celebration before midnight.” Barbara was sure of what they could do, grabbing a drink off a tray that passed them carried by a waiter in a clean, basic suit. 

Tabitha rolled her eyes heavily, looking to be almost in pain at the thought. “He’s going to know that I’m around, we can sense each other.”

“Then you’d better have a great distraction lined up.” The blonde stated, parting from the she-devil to find what she needed in order to fill her desires. “Good luck, and this time, do your job.” She stated, placing a finger under Tabby’s jaw, following her bone structure until the manicured nail against skin flicked out from under her chin. 

The devil watched as the human walked away from her, feeling like she was losing control of what was going on. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like not having control. She didn’t like being at the beck and call of another, being at someone’s mercy. She was an equal, not a pawn.

This was her deal though.   
She would be sure Penguin was destroyed. 

He had to die so she could walk free.

She had to complete her deal.

The crowd mingled for the next twenty minutes, talking among themselves until they had a full house, Zsasz compiled the perfect mix of people before shutting the doors. They were all that was allowed inside and the few left were the officers outside trying to get in the now closed building. 

The lights dimmed, a voice beating out the crowd in both volume and exuberance. “Good evening, salutations, and welcome… to the Iceberg Lounge.” Ed walked around the crowd, microphone in hand, weaving between the people gathered in the small space. “From what I gather, you’re all here to see Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin, would that be fair to say?”

A low hum emitted from the crowds that surrounded him, people glancing back and forth. Ed was no show man, but he could question the crowd and get them thinking. He could make people wonder. He didn’t have Riddler’s pizzazz to enrapture folks, but he could make someone stop to consider something.

“You’re here to see if he truly had escaped Blackgate, are you not?” Ed questioned, passing the microphone to his other hand as his now free appendage passed over his neatly combed hair. He didn’t prefer Riddler’s slicked back do, he’d rather something a little more simple. The demon was dressed well in a suit that had been made while Oswald was in prison, tailored from the measurements taken the day his partner had been arrested and brought to the GCPD. “I can confirm that, yes, the kingpin of Gotham had escaped from Blackgate just two days ago.” 

More noise from the crowd was shared, people now trying to find where Ed was among them to follow both him and his narrative. 

“He escaped with ingenuity and was gone before anyone could catch up to him. No one saw him leave his cell that evening. At lights out, he was there. And shortly after, he was gone.” Ed spoke, his tall frame making him easy to pick out from most of the crowd. He wore a black dress shirt with a long wingtip collar, emerald green tie down the center of his chest with an embroidered, almost floral stamp in black over his sternum in the green fabric. “Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, what if I were to tell you that Oswald Cobblepot has been hiding among you all this entire time? And not one of you had noticed?” 

Heads in the crowd began to move more frantically, attempting to find the man that was supposedly mixed with them. 

Ed’s suit jacket creased across the shoulders as he moved one arm, gesturing along the people. “Now whom among you can find him first? He’s here, I promise you. Someone just needs to find him. Say… $400 to the person who finds the Penguin first.” He bargained with the crowd. The fiend’s suit jacket was styled beautifully. A matching emerald green to his tie made the fabric of the suit noticeable, and bright. More of the same small, black, floral embroidery covered the jacket in sections as though it was naturally growing over it. The lapel a garden of clean stitches that nearly blackened the entire section of the garment. His flat, black slacks complimenting his long legs that ended with square-toed, emerald, leather dress shoes with black soles. “I’ve got the money right here, you just need to get the Penguin. He’s dressed like any one of us, so can your keen eyes find him?”

He held up his hand above the crowd, getting their focus as people began to shuffle through the the club quickly, eyes looking at every face possible in order to find the one that stood out to them. Most of Gotham knew what Oswald Cobblepot looked like. Even if not well, he was a man that didn’t entirely blend in. A bumped nose, pronounced limp, his hair, and distinct grey to blue eyes never let him fade into a crowd. He had particular features everyone knew. 

Over the next five minutes Ed kept an eye on his watch, making a disappointed tsk sound as time ticked on. “No one? Not one of you can find him? It’s a closed room, it can’t be impossible. Alright, what if I said $800 to the first person who finds the Penguin? Now will you work a little more diligently? We need our host of the evening.” He increased the reward, still walking the room with guests now physically pushing past each other in order to look in every booth, seat, behind the bar, beneath curtains, around decor, anywhere that wasn’t obvious. “He’s dressed in a suit, nothing tricky about this.”

Another five minutes passed.

“Nothing? Still? You aren’t trying much at all, are you?” Ed sighed into the microphone, digging into his jacket pocket. “This is all I have on me, but $2000 to the person who can track down Oswald Cobblepot in this room right now. This is the last round, and such a simple puzzle. Do you already give up?”

Ed slipped beyond the party patrons, moving behind the bar where it was somewhat safer, the traffic unable to shove as wildly through the two person-wide space. 

It took another four minutes, but a voice called out in the crowd. “I got him!” Someone walked through the people, Barbara Kean walking hand-in-hand with the Penguin hobbling along beside her. “I think you owe me something, Nygma.” She spoke with an authoritative voice, dragging Oswald ahead with her. 

The man was dressed in a splendid silken black suit, the three piece ensemble quite fitting for his usual need for grandeur. It was perfectly fitted for him, tailored to his every measurement. Oswald wore a pin collar, black dress shirt, the collar embroidered with a silver vinework from the tip up and around the neck. The same vinework sewn around the cuffs of the shirt that could just be seen beneath the suit jacket. A black cravat nearly blended into the black of his shirt, but added a needed volume just above a silver vest with black buttons. His black jacket had a similar silver vinework along the pointed lapels. His black trousers paired with a silver-grey set of shoes that were polished well enough to catch even a dim light and shine. 

Ed stared back at the blonde with a face of uncertainty for a time, nodding curtly in reply. “We have a winner!” He spoke into the microphone, closing the contest to everyone at the bar. “I promise we have more fun ahead of us tonight, we will return.” He told the crowd, guiding Barbara and Oswald away from the people to the office at the back of the club. 

Barbara lead Oswald into the room first, hearing Ed close the door behind them, immediately pulling a gun out of a holster on her thigh beneath her dress, aiming it at Oswald’s temple. “You can leave the money on the desk, I’ll take that while we’re at it.”

Oswald rolled his eyes with a huff, staying under her control with his hands raised in a state of surrender. “You do realize what you’re threatening, don’t you?” The man questioned, glancing over his shoulder at the woman in charge. “Even without me, he will continue on. He won’t stop just because you shoo-”

Barbara pulled Oswald in closer, finger pressing the trigger a little more, watching as Ed stepped forward out of fear. “Yeah… I can see how well he’ll do without you.” The woman with larger dreams she wished to accomplish grinned, speaking next to Oswald’s ear. “You see, I know the secret of you two. I’m not stupid, I saw it instantly.” She grinned triumphantly, nearly cuddling into Oswald’s side, gun still very focused into his temple. 

“And just what do you think you have?”Oswald questioned as Ed approached the two of them carefully, inching forward ever so slightly.

Ed crept ahead still, trying to find his moment of opportunity. “It can’t be anything too drastic, or else there would have been action sooner, I’d assume.”

Barbara smiled smugly, pulling Oswald in front of herself and backing away from the Incubus cautiously. “I know you love this little Penguin right here. And you’d hate to see me put a hole through his head. Unlike you, he won’t bounce back, so you might want to watch how close those pretty shoes get.” She warned, taking Oswald back another step again. “Unless you want to stain that leather with whatever mush will come out of your love’s head.” 

“Please… you don’t need to act so rashly, we c-”

“We could… what, celery stalk? Talk about this? I don’t think so.” Barbara pretended to give it some thought. “You know, I think I’ve waited long enough to have my turn to rule it all. This gimping pigeon is the only thing in my way. Once he’s done with, you’re next.” She smiled sweetly to Ed. “I’ve got special bullet with your name on it, made with a metal that’ll tear that thick head apart.” 

The blonde woman laughed, thrilled to finally have the chance to take what she wanted. 

“Better say your goodbyes now, Penguin. This is the last you’ll see of your precious, loved string bean.” Barb informed the man she kept in place, feeling him tremble somewhat in her hold. “Crying? Ooh, I get all the stops tonight.”

Oswald’s hands shook with the gun’s metal still cool against his skin, staring at Ed with watering eyes. “Edward… I wish I could have thought over my answer to you more.”

Ed shook his head, eyes darting about the room as he tried to find some solution that would help him with an advantage. “Ms. Kean… this doesn’t have to be like this… You could have it, we’ll leave. I have a life I could continue states from here, I’ll take Oswald with me, we’ll leave Gotham. We don’t have to be in your way…!” 

“It’s a little late for that. So, sorry… no deal.” She denied, her head tilting to the side with a smile. “Say goodbye, Edward.”

Ed’s head dropped, eyes squeezing shut with his brows knitted upwards as he let out a struggled breath. “Please… don’t hurt him.” The fiend begged, hands moving beneath his glasses to rub at his eyes. 

“Grovel a little more, maybe I’ll consider it.” 

The demon couldn’t take control of his oxygen intake, reaching out for Oswald desperately. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see the man repeating the motion, Barb shaking her head at the sentiment. 

“This is cute and all, but now I’m bored. Nice doing business with you boys.” 

As Barb pulled the trigger, Ed’s head raised, hardened eyes observing as the blonde pulling the trigger, bullet driving through Oswald’s skin, his skull and through the other side. Blood and matter sprayed out, red speckling the floor beside the two. Barb let the body drop to the floor, shrugging gently as she got the next bullet ready. 

“That’s one down.”

**“Noooooo!”**

“Your turn, freak.” 

The demon’s head dropped again, expression hard, jaw clenched. “You have no idea what you’ve done.” He growled, the fiend standing tall with his chest puffed out, his spark popping aggressively with his anger. “I’ll destroy you… You could shoot me, but I swear I will see to your end… **You shot him!** ” He marched forward with little care for his own well being, consumed by his frustration and anger.

“Hm. Don’t think so. Thanks for the donation cash, I’ll give him a memorial bench in the park. Let people sit on him and animals use it as a public bathroom for the next fifty years.” Barb would be sure that everyone showed Oswald the least amount of respect for years to come. “I’d say nice knowing you, but it’s actually been pretty awful.” 

She pulled the trigger again, not wasting time in sending the next bullet made specially for the fiend into the air. Barbara wanted that bullet going through his forehead, ready to kill whatever organ drove him with a bullet made specially from a melted down magic dagger. 

This bullet would begin her reign in Gotham as its Queen.   
This solidified her ruling.


	21. The Bodies Above and Below

Barbara’s bullet hit its mark, dropping the demon to the floor once it buried itself in the back of his head. Two bodies in the office of the Iceberg Lounge meant that she had won. The blonde smiled, one arm crossing her body while the other rested on it, keeping her gun in the air. “Hm. Easy as that. If it was _that_ easy there’s no reason why _she_ couldn’t do it.” The woman rolled her eyes dramatically, walking away from Oswald’s body at her feet. 

She stooped down next to the demon, avoiding the blood pooling by his head to take the money offered for finding Penguin, stuffing the folded bills held together with a money clip into her dress then got up to leave the space. She stepped over the fiend’s legs, pulling the door to the office open then slipped out into the club as she tucked her gun away into her holster. 

Barbara closed the door softly behind her, taking two steps into the club when she noticed the gentle, ambient music was off. And every pair of eyes at the club was on her. “Wh-... What?” She questioned, shifting in stance at the unnerving feeling that people were privy to something that she wasn’t. No one said a word, watching her with a horror across most of their faces. **“WHAT?!”** She was getting impatient, sick of being left out of the loop already.

A heavy set of feet approached Barbara from behind, large claws brushing over her bare shoulder with thick, scaled fingers keeping her in place. She glanced over her shoulder, noting the creature-like man keeping her from running off. 

“Well… aren’t you a big guy…?” She had some natural reaction to the beast she had yet to see, Waylon having disappeared before she and Tabitha had gone through the door. Where in the hell did this thing come from? 

**“You will stay here.”**

“You know,” Barbara began, trying to slink away from the hold the large crocodilian man had on her. “I think I’ll just go. Looks like no one really wants me here, so I can just-”

**“You’ll stay here.”**

The threatening hiss from Waylon had her considering a few options of escape, not wanting to be left in the care of this beast for very long. “If you’re so sure, why not?” She smiled, playing along with the instructions she was given. 

Survive. That was the only goal at the moment. 

Someone in the crowd of people spoke out now that she was being kept track of, though they were hidden among the others. “You killed them…! You shot them!” 

“What?” Barb’s head whipped around to face the people, staring with a small panic forming in her eyes. “You’re insane, I haven’t killed anyone!” She claimed, not about to admit anything aloud. 

“We saw you do it!”

“Excuse me?” Barbara shook her head, unable to believe that. “Sorry if I’m a bit skeptical here. I don’t know what you people think you saw, but _I_ didn’t kill anyone. So…”

“We saw you, you can’t deny it!”  
“You shot them!”  
“You killed them!”  
“You shot one and then shot the other…!”

Zsasz strolled through the crowd like he owned the club himself, adjusting a pair of gloves he wore as he approached the blonde. His hairless brows raised as his eyes squeezed closed, like he’d tasted something he didn’t like, gazed fixed on Barbara. “Now, y’see, that’s a lie you’re telling these nice people.” He informed her, shaking his head, feeling shame at her misleading the public. “We saw it all, Babs, up on the big screen for everyone to see.” He pointed to a set of screens around the top of the bar, each one still displaying the bodies that had collapsed on the office floor, blood soaked into the rug below them. 

“I…” It was difficult to deny that. If they saw her shoot them, that was damning evidence. Witnesses even… a room of witnesses. Her eyes fixed on the screens, seeing them display the demon’s still body splayed out on the floor and a section of black from Oswald’s jacket or pants, she wasn’t sure what angle the camera was at compared to him. “Look, even if I had killed them, they were low-brow criminals that bleed this city dry at every opportunity. If I killed them, I’d honestly be doing this place a favor.”

“ _I_ wouldn’t agree with that.”

A voice in the crowd froze Barbara’s blood in her system, chilling her over with eyes widened in a sense of panic. _Nooo…_ Oswald hobbled his way out of the crowd, dressed in what she had seen him in just minutes previous though this one had cane in hand, using it to help support his weight on one side. “You-”

“Are alive and well? Very much so, thank you for noticing.” Oswald smiled smugly, approaching Barbara at a safe distance several feet from her and making himself incredibly noticeable to the crowd. “I must say, I was looking for entertainment for tonight’s festivities, but this is nothing like what I’d hoped for.”

Barbara’s brows sunk over her eyes, the woman scowling now at the man she wanted dead more than anything. “You don’t say? You didn’t hope for this at all? There just so _happens_ to be a camera pointed there in your office?!”

Oswald shrugged gently as his lower lip pouted outwards in his feigned innocence, leaning forward on his cane, eyes glancing away for the moment. “Isn’t it natural to have cameras in one’s establishment? I have cameras all over my club. It helps security deal with the riff-raff. It would be irresponsible to run such a respectable establishment and not have eyes everywhere. _Just in case_.” 

“You set me up!” Barbara claimed, struggling forward in Waylon’s grip, despite what the large croc could do to her it wouldn’t match the rage she had for Oswald at the moment.

The man raised a hand, making a _tsk_ noise as his finger made a windshield wiper motion back and forth to embarrass her further. “From what we saw out here, you made your own choices very clear. You were planning this, Ms. Kean. For shame. Killing those people like that…”

“You’re one to talk!” Barb claimed, Waylon’s hand keeping her from stepping any closer to Oswald. Even when she was struggling to fight the grip that kept her still. “You’re the one who shot that old woman after all! What do these nice people in the crowd have to say about that?!” She spat with venom in her voice, a wicked smile wide across her face. 

“Oh, you mean Ms. Landry?” Oswald questioned, head moving into his chest, the man near wiggling in delight of his plans. “You know, we should ask them to see what they think. Poll the audience, as it were.” He spoke, turning to address the groups of party attendees behind himself. “Is there anyone here who believes I killed Ms. Elizabeth Landry?”

The people glanced back and forth between each other, mumbling in debate as they didn’t know the answer themselves, or didn’t want to say so in the Penguin’s own environment. 

“I do!” One woman called out, marching from the cover of people blocking a clear view of her. The older woman hunched over with age, wearing a sequin sweater with several pictures of kittens playing with yarn sewn onto the outside, her trousers well pressed and spotless, clearly new for the occasion. “You’ve killed me and what I believed, Ozzie.”

Barbara’s focus remained on the old woman, blown back by the appearance. “Where… Where did you find her?”

Oswald gave the blonde a superior, open-mouthed smile, hand gesturing to the once believed deceased Elizabeth Landry, at this point showing off in his grand plan. “I found this charming woman in Metro City, would you believe that? Moved there… how long would you say it was, Lizzie?” He asked the older woman who walked to Oswald’s side, a few inches shorter than the club owner, and hugged the younger man cheerfully.

“Ooh, let’s see… It was maybe 25 days ago?”

“And what would you know? That’s about the same time I’ve been in jail! What a coincidence!” Oswald spoke dramatically, hugging an arm around Ms. Landry in return. “I found this lovely woman left in a retirement home in another city. Now, Barbara, how do you think she might have gotten that far from here, when she was born, raised, and retired in Gotham?” Oswald asked the blonde woman with a tilt of his head, letting go of Ms. Landry to approach his captive shooter. His voice went low, dropping as he stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. “My time in prison is going to be a walk in the park compared to what you’ll get.” He threatened her seriously, having someone in line already to take over Blackgate before Barbara’s arrival.

“How…? I shot you…” Her voice was in a near whisper, eyes narrowing as she looked to him.

Oswald shook his head quickly, licking his lips before answering. “No, you little crime lord wannabe, you didn’t. You shot someone who _looked_ like me.” He clarified with a grin, leaning back from her with a happy chuckle, limping away to better address the crowd. 

“You… Someone who… Noo… She wouldn’t! She wouldn’t betray me!”

“She? She who, Barbara? Are you seeing people who aren’t there? That must be quite a difficult situation.” He taunted her, and the pleased expression he had showed his contentment with the outcome he planned. The cameras above the bar shut off, Oswald putting his eyes on the people he’d invited that night. “Now, who here believes we should put this criminal behind bars? Shall we let in the detectives?”

The resounding cheer from the crowd told him everything he wanted to know, pulling a button switch out of his jacket pocket, hitting it to unlock the doors of the club. It was time to put this all to rest.

“Waylon, if you could be sure Ms. Kean doesn’t escape before the detectives arrive, I would be most grateful. Victor, be sure they meet Ms. Landry and clear up this mess, then escort her back to her home. Make sure Waylon gets back to the water system without issue.” 

“Yes, Boss.” Victor nodded quickly, stepping in beside Elizabeth and talking to her sweetly to keep her occupied. Between the club owner and the hitman, it seemed the older woman was quite smitten by the two.

Oswald hobbled passed the two in his employ that night, going back to the office where a man in a green suit was laying dead with a bullet in his forehead, a second man maybe ten feet from him with brains spraying across the floor. “This space has seen more bodies in the last number of months than it had years previous.” The man recalled, stepping carefully over the green-suited corpse and closing the office door behind himself.

“You couldn’t let me in on your scheme, could you?” An unimpressed, monotone voice took over, Oswald’s eyes meeting those of a tall figure sat on his desk at the other end of the room. 

“We couldn’t, no. I’m assuming that meant Ed managed to keep you locked out from important information enough.” The club owner had a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. “Good for him.” He and Ed had been hoping to keep Riddler out of their planning for the benefit of an honest reaction.

A female voice cut between them, making herself well known. “I gotta admit, that was fun.” Tabitha was standing next to the desk, one hip stuck out while her weight was mostly balanced on the opposite side’s foot, the pair of demons so far co-existing well beside each other. “I was getting tired of her high and mighty attitude.”

Riddler glanced to the she-devil, trying to figure out why the betrayal came from one who was usually loyal to their deal maker. “So why join this plan to begin with? What do you gain from breaking your deal?”

“I didn’t break my deal. We destroyed Oswald and you.” She claimed, knowing exactly what deal she’d made. “She wanted Gotham to know her more than anything, she wanted everyone to listen to her. Now she’ll have the city’s attention as the woman who murdered two men in front of a party live. She helped me ruin you two, I gave her everything she wanted.” Tabitha crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “I was getting more tired of her thinking she was in complete control than I was angry at you for killing my brother.” 

“Though you realize he isn’t truly dead, you devils have that luxury of coming back whenever possible.” Riddler still didn’t entirely trust her sudden change of sides. 

Tabby rolled her eyes, shoulders sinking back as her weight adjusted to the other leg. “Yeah, I know. Kinda getting over it, day by day. Now if you just told me where he was…” 

Oswald’s eyes half lidded as he glanced down to the floor, considering her words. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you where your brother’s stones are, _if_ you promise that both of you will leave Gotham and not return in my lifetime. Come back when I’m long dead, then you can do whatever you wish to it.” Though he wouldn’t have the city fall in his time, he brought some order to the city of chaos. 

Tabitha considered the offer, looking over Oswald as if to judge if he was lying to her. “Give us 24 hours, enough for me to find him, get him together again, for him to heal, and for us to collect what we need before we leave and deal. We’ll come back again when you’re dead, then we’ll take what’s left of your legacy and drive it into the ground.” She walked closer to Oswald, holding out a hand and dropping her guise around it to show the burgundy colored skin.

“Deal.” Oswald agreed, able to live with that. After that point he’d be gone and his city would be in the hands of those after him. If they couldn’t do their job, live up to his example and prevent the devils from taking it, he’d be quite annoyed. “How much of a soul do I trade for this?” He held out his hand, ready to form the bargain.

“Normally we’d take the whole thing.” Tabitha clasped her fingers around his appendage, two thumbs striking into the skin to pierce the back with her nails. The she-devil paused, eyes fixed curiously with Oswald’s. “...but it seems like you still have a pile on yourself so I’ll settle for a quarter of what you have.” 

“Agreed, take a quarter.” 

Tabitha made her pact, extracting a quarter the souls Oswald had on him at the moment. She could get over her vengeance if it meant getting Theo back. They could always return when Oswald was dead. Even if that meant hiring a hitman to take out the bird at their earliest convenience, they would still be living up to their deal. So, she’d see where the wind took them.

“To be fair, I killed him because at the time you killed Ed. A loved one for a loved one.” Oswald reminded the she-devil who rolled her eyes at the point, finishing with the deal and removed her nails from the man’s skin. Riddler’s head turned to observe Oswald from his place on the desk, boring holes into his partner’s back curiously. 

“I guess. I’m still pissed at you though.”

“And I’m not fond of you.” 

Tabitha dusted her hands off in front of herself, human skin once again covering her hand to rid it of its unnatural seeming appearance. “Great, so now that we have an understanding… Where’s my brother?” 

Oswald recalled the positions of the stones. One still with Theo’s body and the other with coordinates in the Gotham City River. He warned her of that beforehand, though he believed that the lock on the box wouldn’t be an issue for her to break with her bare hands if she had as much supernatural strength as she’d shown before. Tabitha took the information, committing it to her memory before she left the office, business now done and dealt with. 

With her gone, Oswald put his focus on Riddler, offering out his hand to the demon. “Come, we should leave here before the detectives get by Victor and Waylon.” He didn’t want to be caught in the mix again, Jim could see him at a later point in time if he needed to. Which, upon finding the real Elizabeth Landry, he should get a fully written out apology for the wrongful imprisonment. ...And maybe he could milk a favor out of it at a point.

Riddler felt somewhat betrayed by the lock out, though he supposed he had done worse to Ed at other instances, so… He let out an annoyed exhale from his lungs, pretending to be more upset than he was though took Oswald’s hand regardless. “Fine, but only because I don’t want to be questioned by Gordon or his idiot lap dog if I was the one who broke you out of Blackgate.” 

“Hm, agreed. That would be quite annoying.” Oswald got what he wanted from the shindig, having just needed people there in order to throw Barbara under the bus for a crime she committed, but not the one she had actually gone through with. 

Something he was pleasantly surprised by was that the she-devil actually switched out the bullets Barbara had planned on using. The magic metal bullet that could have ended the Incubus’ life, or at least permanently damaged him mentally, had been switched for an everyday bullet. One that he would heal from quickly. 

Oswald lead Riddler away from the office, not at all concerned with what would happen with the bodies in the office or the money Barbara took. The men now laying dead on his floor were actually two patrons of his party, found in the crowd while Ed walked among them. He’d announced new reward denominations when he was next to someone who was close enough in their description for Tabitha to roundup, kill, then hide under the desk to place when the coast was clear. The camera had shown enough for those watching to know Barb had killed two men, no one knew who, but she’d shot them down without much thought.

The pair snuck away from the scene of the crime, seeing Gordon attempting to get by Waylon with little success while Bullock stood by Jim’s side. Other than spacing himself two steps behind his partner when Waylon annoyedly hissed at them.

When they left out the back it wasn’t difficult to round the empty alley, walking another block down and away from the people still lined up outside the club waiting for a chance to get in, slipping by most eyes other than a few stray walkers at the odd hour of night. The air was warm, the breeze nearly non-existent on the dry August night, the two making their way to a well polished, limo-length, 1957 Mercedes Benz that was parked on the side of the road. A driver sat in the front, car running as he waited for the men he was supposed to be there for. 

Oswald got into the back of the vehicle first, Riddler soon in behind him, the driver pulling away from the sidewalk to take the pair back to the manor and far from the drama that was currently building inside the Iceberg Lounge. 

The car moved ahead maybe six feet before Riddler’s head snapped in Oswald’s direction, the fiend’s jaw clenched rather tightly. “Why was I locked out? I could’ve easily played the part if I was told. Ed’s no actor, but I could have done that without needing to think you were dead.” His words were spoken in such a way that reflected his short temper, clearly offended by the plan made without him.

“Like you haven’t done something similar to Ed many times. Now the shoe was on the other foot.”

“And I don’t appreciate it.” Riddler’s eyes narrowed, hating being the one without the information or plan. He could have made it twice as efficient, at least.

“Neither does he.”

“Something like this doesn’t happen as a result when I do it.”

“You had one bad lock out, and I apologize for your trauma in that moment, but you were notified as soon as we were able.” Oswald couldn’t stop the world in order to inform everyone of every little thing, sometimes they had to act as necessary.

“Oddly, I don’t feel any better hearing that.”  
“ _Oddly_ , it was someone else’s choice to make.”  
“You could have told me sooner.”  
“ _You_ could have been around instead of hiding again.”  
“I had other matters to consider.”  
“ _I_ made a call with Ed because you were gone.”  
“Why didn’t either of you tell me?”  
“ _Why_ did you leave again?”

Riddler wasn’t getting very far, each of his statements reflected back at him from Oswald’s perspective, the man staring out the window and refusing to meet the fiend’s eye though their hands stayed connected between them.

It was infuriating.

“Look at me when we speak.”

“So _now_ you want to be present?”

Riddler tightened his jaw, speaking through his teeth, enunciating well despite the calcified barrier. “Oswald, I can be patient with you, but only to a certa-”

“You listen to me.” Oswald cut Riddler off, not about to take guff from anyone, not even a partner. His head finally turned, eyes narrowed beneath sunken brows, looking up to the Incubus with no fear of speaking back to the otherworldly figure. “You chose to disappear. You gave us no more warning or explanation than we had with you. _You_ decided this was what you’d do again. _You_ leave constantly for some pointless reason. **You** choose that something is too much and leave. **You** make Ed and I force you out to get any reply.” Oswald listed off his annoyances with Riddler’s hiding habit. “If _you_ want to be involved _so_ much, perhaps you can start by **actually being around consistently**.” 

The man’s words increased in volume as he spoke, their joined hands between them bouncing up and down with Oswald’s own hands punctuating each important word with a dropped motion. 

“And **I** need time to think! I can’t run from one situation into the next with you every time!”

“Why can’t you?!”

**“Because you confuse me!”**

Oswald’s expression didn’t let up, suspicion sinking into his features to mix with his frustration. “I think I make myself quite clear, so whatever extra confusion you’ve been having sounds like your problem.”

Riddler nodded along with that, face filled with just as much annoyance as his partner’s. “Exactly my point! Are you even listening? You’re only repeating what I say!” He questioned the other, having been trying to prove something, but if Oswald didn’t care… What was he saying? Of course Oswald cared, that’s why he was in this mess. Oswald cared entirely. “You make yourself and your emotional responses so crystal clear and reflect them wholeheartedly that you confuse me! I hate it! Emotional reaction doesn’t make sense!”

“I suppose we’ve taken something of a step forward recently with Ed’s love confession.”

“Nooo… You think?” Riddler’s sarcasm was thick enough one would need a machete to cut through it, the demon’s brow sunk low over his eyes.

Oswald had handled these things before, he could do it again. He had to be the calm one and anchor the Incubus in thought. “What are you attempting to hide from? What has you fearful at this point in time that would have you tucking yourself away?”

Questions. He had to ask questions, had to make him think things through.

“I hide from nothing.”

“That is clearly not the case.”

The demon paused, considering his options though he guessed out of anyone he had the least to hide from Oswald… 

_“Just tell him what’s wrong. I think we’ve all been through enough so far that a little honesty won’t kill anyone.”_ Ed, looking to encourage Riddler’s embrace of emotional response, was on the free seat beside his other half. Their body being rather close to Oswald gave him enough room. 

Riddler’s eyes flicked over to Ed briefly, acknowledging his more chipper personality despite his betrayal. “I… hate not being the best at what’s available, and I am lost with these… emotional situations. It’s always Ed poisoning me with his weakness.”

_“It’s sooo not my fault if you like him too. That’s a bunch of phoney bologna.”_

“And you think feeling anything for me is weakness?”

“Yes. Or… no…” Riddler answered quickly, only to inject doubt moments later with contradiction.

Oswald side eyed the fiend, head shifting to reflect his curiosity. “Well, which is it? Do I or do I not put weakness in you?”

“Well, yes! You do! Emotions are a natural weakness…!” Though the statement of fact didn’t seem as cut and dry as it used to be. “Also, no… feeling for you has perhaps made me better in situations. Feeling for you is not a _constant_ weakness, but it’s… It is a weakness though, it’s a vulnerability and I hate it!”

“So are you going to stop feeling for me?”

_“Good luck on that one. I can feel it from you, you’re stuck with him.”_

The demon huffed, trying to find anywhere in the car to stare where he didn’t have Oswald or Ed in his sight. “I’ve already attempted that several times and it’s proved to be an inefficient method.” He admitted, having tried a time ago to ignore feelings entirely and to move on without attaching to Oswald. Judging by their still joined hands at the moment… he probably failed in avoiding that bonding. “I’ve… eughh… cocooned you, I’ve marked you out of emotion, I’ve considered things I do not give to others… At this point I’m restricted to shutting myself away when responses are too strong and coming back when I can think.”

“And how has that been working?” What could the other half of the demon been considering in his isolation though? That was more interesting. “What do you not give to others that you’d give to me?” Oswald couldn’t help his wondering, but it still stuck to his methods so he felt like he could ask about it.

“There’s…”

Riddler’s stopping had Ed shaking his head in disappointment. _“Out with it. You think you’re weak for having emotion? You’re weak for not being able to say you feel something. Even a human child can say they like something. Are you more incapable than a child?”_ He had to help things along, but of course in his own way.

“No!” The current personality whipped his head to stare down Ed, glaring at the other with a flare of anger. “There’s several things I’d consider like… I’d…” He still struggled to admit his thoughts, but the demon’s slight mouth movements reflected his trying to continue. 

“Yes, Riddler?”  
 _“Say it already, he’ll die of old age before you get it out.”_

“I’d let you penetrate me.”

“Oh.”  
 _“See? Now was that so difficult?”_

Oswald shifted as he wracked his brain for the proper reply, this being somewhat beyond his wheelhouse. “I would… be honored to penetrate you…?”

The questioned statement made the demon give a short laugh, quickly pulling it together again as he took his hand from Oswald’s to cross his arms over his chest. “That’s… not typically how a reply to that would go, but… I appreciate the thought.” A tired breath was pushed from his nose, eyes shutting momentarily as he did.

“You wouldn’t rather the other way around? Like our scenarios in the prison?” Oswald questioned, wondering what Riddler might be thinking in order to consider giving up that much control and power. Which, for either of them, was a large step in trust. 

“I would, but that wouldn’t be smart for your first time.”

_“Oh you’re not…”_

“And why not? Do you think I’m unable to handle it?” Oswald challenged, willing to defend the experience he didn’t know his comforts on in order to save face. 

Riddler grinned, feeling more comfortable with a challenge than an emotional talk-it-through coping method. “I think you’d be more uncomfortable receiving, yes. If I had to guess, and if I do my chances of being right are astronomical, but I would say between your lack of interest in sex, your lack of experience in submitting to _anything_ , and a lack of practice in any rectal exercises… I’m very certain you wouldn’t enjoy it so much.”

_“You’re toying with him… leading him into this.”_

“You don’t know that. I could have a wonderful time, if it’s you or Ed, who knows?” Oswald scoffed, not believing his preferences could be presumed so easily. 

“So,” Now it was time to poke the lion back. “You’re saying in an activity where you have little experience and a negative physical reaction you can’t control, you’d be uninterested in taking the lead? You wouldn’t want to learn what it takes to have large control over a situation and have someone obeying your every desire? Where you are rewarded for your either benevolent or malevolent hand? Where you choose how generous or how stingy you are with your bed mate?” 

“Well… I-”

_“You two can handle this on your own, I do not need to hear this.”_

“If you were interested in any of that, if it ever crossed your mind, you’d learn how to be in control in a way only a handful of humans before you ever have. Incubi don’t normally let humans take power. Other species… every now and then, mixes things up, but a human…? It’s rare we like humans enough to keep them around, let alone give them that kind of knowledge and dominance in bed.”

“What makes taking power from an Incubus so special?” Oswald questioned, his interested toyed with the more Riddler spoke. “Is it really any different?” He couldn’t say he wasn’t curious from the demon’s posed times in prison, also he had something to prove with that short lasting time… He wasn’t necessarily invested in the idea, but he was curious.

The fiend grinned, his ankles crossing over each other as he relaxed in the seat, feeling much better with the change of conversational focus. “It’s so, so much more different.” His expression became devious, mischief in his eyes. “What you said I did to you that I fulfilled on your desk…? I can do several things that can feel so much more intense than that with species specific muscles you don’t know about in my natural form.” Riddler bragged about his abilities, even hardly used ones he usually avoided for personal control reasons would still be beyond Oswald’s imagination.

Oswald’s adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy swallow he involuntarily did at the thought of what Riddler could do. “So… if I _were_ curious…”

“Then you’d only need to say so. You are free to experiment with me, as we did before. You are in control and if it’s not to your liking or interest, then we stop.” The demon set down easy to follow rules, open to Oswald’s possible reflections. “It’s been approximately 70 years since I’ve let anything have control, so there may be adjustment habits I need to break. If you can allow me to hide at moments to think, it would be a very enlightening experience.” Riddler brought it back to the original problem, willing to test the man like this. Oswald wasn’t the only one who could manipulate a situation.

The man thought for a moment, both hands now on the handle of his cane that rested between his open legs against the car seat. “That sounds like a reasonable thing I can try. No promises on the outcome.” 

“I don’t expect any.” 

“Good, then we have a deal.” 

The car went extremely quiet, Riddler happy with Ed’s disappearance once he started getting too into the sexual proposition conversation. That always gave him a vacation from his other half. The club owner, however, could feel his heart drumming too fast in his chest, feeling that old paint can shaker again going to town on the rather vital organ. Nerves. Always nerves. What if they couldn’t replicate what happened? What if he hated it? What if he insulted the otherworldly being? What if he couldn’t perform? Could he be any good in control? What if he had to tap out of the situation? Was that more or less personally insulting than not being able to physically react?

His hands tightly squeezed around the handle of his cane, drawing his lower lip into his mouth to press it between his teeth. When that proved inefficient, a hand raised to his mouth instead, nibbling on an already short thumbnail as he thought with eyes locked to staring out the window. 

They’d been over this before. 

If he couldn’t trust a well-experienced, actual sex demon with his issues… who could he trust? Just… had to get the first words out.

“Riddler, I-”

The car pulled to a stop, delivering the pair to the manor. The driver leaving his seat to get the back door, allowing Oswald to leave the vehicle first. His expression turned to frustration, eyes squeezed shut and mouth twisting in annoyance. Drat… 

The man left the car, relying on his cane as he stood outside it, only waiting the moment it took the Incubus to put his leg outside of the Benz before he turned to head for the manor. Professional, apart, he had to cool it. He blew his first chance to be honest, so he’d… perhaps try again soon. He’d try to try. 

God, he was garbage at this.

Once inside Oswald could tell he was being judged, observed, studied… Eyes on him not out of hunger, but out of suspicion. 

“You’re nervous.”

“Naturally.”

“Follow me, we’ll work through this in a more private setting.” Riddler offered, placing a hand on Oswald’s back to guide him forward, but only for several steps. He gave the man space once the pace began, going to the master bedroom with no deviations or words. The demon shut the door behind them, Oswald halfway between the fiend and the bed. “Now, are your worries similar to before?”

“Nearly identical, if not worse.” 

Riddler nodded gently, taking their time on the desk’s positive results into consideration. “As I would expect.” He crossed one arm over his chest, the other perched so an index finger could rest against his lips. “Would visualization aid you again in this situation?”

Oswald bounced slightly in his stance, his thumb tapping on the top of his cane nervously. “I don’t think I can bring myself to that state at the moment.” He admitted, eyes going to different items in the room so he wouldn’t need to focus on the demon. He had too many thoughts happening in his head at one time, and none of them were positive.

“Oswald. Focus on me.” The fiend approached Oswald carefully, setting hands on the man’s shoulders, connecting their eyes as much as his partner attempted to look away. “You can always reject this offer, there is no need to comply because I suggested it. Even though my suggestions are most always spectacular, they aren’t always… mhmm… not always… r-riiight…” That was a struggle to say aloud, but he got it out!

Oswald grinned slightly at the push, knowing what was meant and it was thoughtful of him to try. Though it came out horrendously wrong. “I am curious about it though. I’m attracted to you, to both of you, it’s not an impossible scenario for me to imagine. I don’t… I don’t know what to do with the information. It’s never been important before, so why now? What if I ruin this? What if performance anxiety happens again? What if I can’t say what I need? What if I fail you? If this goes wrong it’ll only push this situation even further from a realm of possibility in the future. If ever again…” He dropped his head, getting somewhat overwhelmed by the outcomes. Eyes shut again while a hand brought fingers to his forehead, brushing over it and pushing his styled fringe somewhat to the side. 

“Oz.” His name was spoken simply, fingers snapping in front of his face to gain his attention again. “Your _‘what if’_ s are nothing but an obstacle in your mind unless you either reject the situation or you act upon what your curiosities are. Or you act upon them and then reject it. You do not know until you do something. If you continue to wonder you’ll keep pushing yourself into this… corner of negative wonderment.” Riddler had little idea what to do for Oswald’s emotional issues, but the rest he could handle. “I am, by far, the safest and most accepting partner you could have for this situation. I am the best choice and option you could have for testing your theories.”

“I suppose you’re right…”

“Of course I’m right, I’m always right.” Riddler grinned, more pleased when he had Oswald’s blue eyes meeting his own visual contact, knowing he was making some progress. “If you do not wish for it to continue, I can end it in an instant. If you do not wish for it to start… I’ll only take minor offense that you won’t penetrate me, does that sound fair?”

Oswald could see the sly grin on Riddler’s face, the demon clearly trying to go for a _light-hearted_ , humorous joke. “Only if I get the option to roll my eyes and sarcastically remark about it if you bring it up in conversation.”

“Agreed.”

The man took in then released a deep breath, trying to cross out any perceived outcomes that were either positive or negative. He just had to… try. No was always an option, but yes could also be. The blowjob went well, there was no reason this couldn’t as well. He had to focus on success. He did it with all of his other unsure business ventures, if he could picture things going well… no matter being positive or negative, then he could have it happen.

Riddler knew what to do. He had a century and more experience, he could be trusted.

Oswald settled his stance, tapping his cane on the floor. “Where do we begin?”

 

The demon’s instructions were quite simple and easy to follow. Go sit on the bed, and breathe. 

Oswald followed what he was told, watching the fiend carefully for the next direction, he was supposed to be in the lead, but he was entirely reliant on the other for what he didn’t know. Riddler eyed Oswald for a long moment, his mind at work before glancing about the room. “Ah, I know just what this needs.” He claimed, turning to head for the door. “Get undressed, as far as you wish, I need to retrieve something from the study.” 

The man watched as the demon left, head tilted curiously before taking the advice. He set his cane to the side on the mattress, removing his jacket and vest to lay beside the walking assistant. His belt undone, slacks open, shoes soon removed, and his tie coming undone as the demon walked back into the room with a piece of furniture under his arm. 

“Why… do you have that?”

“We’re going to have sex on it.” 

Oswald’s eyes rolled to the side, when stated like that it seemed so simple. “Why that? Why not the bed?”

Riddler closed the door behind himself, taking the long foot bench next to the bed to set it down for their use. “Most positions are going to be aggravating for your knee. It has already been bothering you, best to take what pressure we can off of it. We need a position for you knee, that gives you control, and gives us enough room for you to have sex with an Incubus. It narrows down many options.” Luckily, he had one in mind that could work for them. “Next time you have a curious thought on experimenting we should give your knee a bit of therapy or take a bath together.” Where Ed had a sentimental need to be a good partner, Riddler had a compulsion to be the best at anything he did.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to shared baths on occasion, regardless.” Oswald stated casually, continuing to undress, his tie joining the growing pile next to him. “Not every one, I appreciate my alone time, but… now and then wouldn’t hurt.” 

“I think we can agree on how often we could.” The demon moved around in front of Oswald as he shed his upper half layers to abandon them on the bed with his partner’s in the growing pile. He had to get the man comfortable, he could see the other looked rigid, but not in the ways that he should with this topic. Attention. Attention worked before, with understanding mixed in. He could manage that again. He was, by far, the best lover in the mid-realm. And he was going to prove, once again, that there was no one who could satisfy like he could. 

Although his personal concerns were getting in the way at times… he still wished to finish his courting of Oswald. And if the man was curious about pursuing something like this with him, or them, there was some deeper connection they were earning.

Riddler, clad in slacks and a half open dress shirt, the rest of his layers abandoned nearby, climbed onto the bed over Oswald’s legs. He could see the heavy sense of nerves written across the man’s face. It didn’t seem that he was trying to hide it though, he was freely displaying his worry, which… the demon would take over blind ignorance and denial. The Incubus straddled Oswald’s thighs, hands raised to cup either side of the face several inches from his own. “Remember that you’re in charge. You can end this when you wish. You do not need to impress me with anything, as _I’m_ the most impressive regardless.” He grinned confidently, kissing the man he had trapped to begin the situation. 

Oswald’s hands had an incredibly affinity for not knowing what to do in every situation. At the moment they clutched at the sheets he sat on top of, floating somewhat off the mattress and flexed in the air. The man met the affection given, thinking of what he could possibly do to be apart of the event. Touching… touching was the best thing. So… touch the fiend. Easy. 

His hands raised to rest against Riddler’s shoulders, though he could do better than that. So the man slid them up into the demon’s hair, weaving his fingers with the dark brown locks.

It took time, but Riddler managed to lull Oswald into a comfortable enough state to begin foreplay. Clothing lost, closeness kept, affections met and given. The man hit a small speed bump of panic when he felt the fiend’s hand brush over his groin, though he expressed his discomfort with something of a yelp. Still, it was communication Riddler wanted to hear, no matter how shrill it was, and he treated the information with care. He brought the other back down to the mid-realm carefully, kissing the man softly and avoided his pelvis for the moment. 

And yet, Oswald still insisted he was fine to continue.  
Honestly, he felt he could be ready. 

The fiend didn’t push it, he refused to. He was better than that and he didn’t need to rely on any underhanded tricks, in this area of life, to get what he wanted. He respected what Oswald thought, showing the man that he was doing well in the situation with how his spark was reacting naturally. The fiend let an ear press to his chest, fine with Oswald seeking comfort where necessary and only continued when instructed. Riddler kept the man in charge, asking what he wanted, guiding his partner’s desires, fulfilling what ideas were suggested to him. 

Something that intrigued the demon was when Oswald was allowed to and encouraged to explore, he was rather cautious. Riddler let the other play with his human form, getting something positive from it, but it felt dampened in comparison to his natural body. The difference between a pleasant tickle and a satisfying stroking, if he needed to compare them.

When the last of their clothing was lost, when the club owner was comfortable enough to move on, Riddler lost his human guise. Marble-like smooth skin warmed by powerful circulation, large wings stretched out above them with the room they had, tail laying heavily between Oswald’s knees over the edge of the bed.

The fiend’s grin was long and devious, his natural face and horns making him seem more imposing than usual. “Oswald Cobblepot, are you prepared to learn what it takes to make an Incubus _moan_ for you?”

“If it has anything to do with the… python hanging between us, I don’t think I have enough hands to take care of it.” Some of Oswald’s humor came through, the joke coming as more of a comfort to the demon that they were in the right direction.

“Although you’re trying to be smarmy, you may find some relief that the _python_ , as you keep calling it, has little to do with what I physically find as erotic.”

“Oh, thank God.” Oswald’s head fell back with a sigh, playing up his reaction slightly, but… it was an honest relief. That appendage was daunting. 

Riddler took one of Oswald’s hands, placing it on his chest. “Demons have their abilities centralized in several areas of the body that I think you know fairly well at this point. And an Incubus has these areas… in what three places?”

The quiz was going to be important, Oswald decided, knowing he was directed to one already. “Chest, obviously. It has my favorite power of yours.” His adoration of the spark and the demon’s noises was no secret. Where else…? Well… there was a rather obvious area… The man’s hand slid from chest down to the demon’s hip, feeling Riddler’s hand remain over his own, being encouraged to squeeze to what would normally be a painful degree to any person. The Incubus though let go of a content breath, mouth parted open to let his noticeable exhale escape without restraint. “Hips…?”

“Pelvis in general, but yes.” He had to correct that at least somewhat.

“Chest, pelvis…” Oswald thought aloud, something occuring to him from his memories that he hadn’t come across in some time. He found it by accident before, but perhaps… “Lower back or spine?” He guessed, hand sneaking from the Incubus’ hip to find the nearest nodule he could reach, rubbing his palm into the raised bump on the fiend’s spine.

The raised knot half way down Riddler’s back was stroked in such a way that made his suspended form above the human become concave, wings fluttering, and eyes shutting as a breathy groan found easy passage into the room and to Oswald’s ears with the open orifice to leave. “L-Lower back… is accurate.” 

That was something Oswald hadn’t experienced before, hearing Riddler verbally express pleasure. That… also wasn’t what that did before. The fluttering was still accurate, but the rest… “It seems this is more complex than I first thought.” 

Something Oswald wasn’t privy to, and something Riddler normally adamantly rejected, was that the fiend never allowed anyone to go near his spine at any time. That was off limits. He knew that an Incubus spine was sensitive in general, but he hadn’t learned the actual outcome until he’d been near Oswald. Riddler didn’t know why entirely, but he could begin to hazard guesses at why this moment was different than Oswald’s casual exploration months ago.

“Do it again.”

Oswald was more curious than simply wanting to see a repeat action, moving himself out some from underneath the demon to better reach his spinal bumps. He dragged his hand from between Riddler’s wings down to the base of his tail and the reaction was shocking to say the least.

What started as a squirm and a flutter of wings at the highest protrusion Oswald could reach in his position, became an outright shuddering moan at the bottom. The man’s eyes lit up with interest, more into the situation now that he got to experience something so different. This was something he could commit to seeing through.

Riddler’s head tilted as he bit his lower lip, some shame on his features, but he attempted to push them aside like other emotional responses he didn’t want or need. “I’ve never wanted to know that I ever made a noise like that, but… if anyone, at least it’s you.”

“I suppose getting into a mood like this makes them more sensitive?”

“I’d suppose you are right.”

Oswald chuckled, his shoulders lifting closer to his ears in his amusement. “I’m going to have quite a bit of fun with this.” 

“Get on the foot bench. Now.”


	22. Frantic But With Purpose

Oswald raised a brow to the demon, rather liking that he seemed to be in some state of desperation to get onto the next phase. “And here I thought you said I’d be in charge.” 

Riddler paused, considering how demanding his last statement might have been interpreted, but… he really had no regrets on it. “And you are. It speaks for how well you’re doing, clearly.” He recovered the situation, thinking that worked well enough.

“Clearly.”

The fiend rose from over the man, wings folding in closer to his back to make room for himself as he stood next to the mattress. He was between bed and foot bench, offering a hand to Oswald to assist him. The human accepted the gesture, using the leverage to sit fully upright, completely in the Incubus’ line of sight for appreciation. 

He found it charming that Oswald had a bit of a roll to his stomach when he sat up. The human had noticeable lean muscle from shoulders to mid abdomen, had definition around his hips, but the section of stomach below belly button was soft and less toned. He was, by no means, weighted in any area, but he was… human. And that was something he could find positive about Oswald. His natural squishy areas, his scars, his pain, and his disability… it made him very human to the fiend. Who would at times be able to believe otherwise, if he let himself, that his partner was some sort of demon.

Though human meant temporary.   
And temporary meant one day this would all be gone.

In comparison to his own life, Oswald would only be there for a limited time. So he should enjoy the man and what he could have from him. This human, _his_ human, happened once in maybe his own lifetime.

So he would enjoy all that he could.

“How should I be on this?” Oswald’s question brought him back to the moment, letting him go back to a guiding role for the man.

“A leg on either side, shift more to your better knee’s side, you’ll be using the floor to push off of in order to have more momentum and thrust.” Riddler explained, watching carefully as the man sat himself side saddle on the foot bench first before tossing his better leg over on the opposite side. Although somewhat awkward, Oswald liked it had his legs spread apart so much, it let his worse leg rest at an angle it preferred more freely. “If you need any more pull or something to steady yourself on, you can use me as needed.” He offered.

This was one of the most comfortable positions he could think of to aid the other. If he had something to hang onto, standing could be an option for Oswald as well. He’d have to do some specific leg injury safe sex position research in his free time.

Again, he was _the best_ partner one could ever find.  
Oswald was lucky to have him.

The demon observed Oswald’s physical progress, but it seemed there wasn’t a large amount of reaction again, the man had some redistributed blood circulating through him, but it was hardly useable. “We need to get you slightly more excited.” Even semi-erect would work for the situation.

“And what would you suggest?”

“That is up to you, Oz.” Riddler reminded him, moving to kneel on the foot bench facing his partner, eyes glancing from under his brow with a grin. “What do you want me to do? What do you want me to do to you? I’m at your beck and call.” One of the demon’s hands pressed against Oswald’s chest, the very tips of his claws skating carefully over skin as the hand travelled to the man’s soft stomach. 

The options seemed nearly endless and that was somewhat intimidating to Oswald. “I… We could…” Something he knew. Something he liked. ...What did he like? “Uhh… How you bit and scratched at our last sexual endeavor, that was pleasant.” He recalled that, and having been lost in his fantasy and feeling the demon on him, it was a positive combination. 

Riddler was beyond glad Oswald was not a vanilla cuddler. 

“Are you ready for these? You only got my human nails and teeth last time, and these are a step above.” The fiend warned his partner, a nail dragging up Oswald’s torso to return to his chest. 

“I’m willing to try.”

That was what he wanted to hear. “If you say so.” The Incubus got closer, able to see an emotion in Oswald’s eyes that wasn’t there previously. He was anticipating the actions. Anticipation was leagues beyond anxious, so he’d accept the upgrade. Riddler licked his lips, one hand holding the human’s thigh while the other moved to his back. Nails pressed into skin carefully at first, Riddler needing to judge where Oswald’s limits were. It would be handled a step at a time. “Tell me if it’s too much.” The demon whispered close to his partner’s ear.

Teeth found ear, neck, shoulder, chest, stomach, and thighs. All the while his nails left red indents behind or red, irritated trails where they were dragged across arms, legs, chest, ribs, and stomach. Only twice did his nails dig in too far, cutting Oswald enough to draw tiny droplets of blood along the line. The man hissed in reaction, a disgruntled huff soon to follow, but did not protest. So he wasn’t _that_ kinky, but he was along the lines. Good to document for any possible future nights together.

Oswald reacted best, overall, to the biting. Especially between the neck and the shoulder, as quite a few humans enjoyed. It by far brought the best reaction. Clamping down with a soft amount of pressure made the man tilt his head back with a happy sigh. Biting enough to leave behind reasonable indents that would stay red for the next couple hours made him squirm in his seat and groan into Riddler’s ear. Applying pressure just short of breaking skin that would leave bruises had the man moaning with his head falling away to expose more skin.

It was a fun experiment.  
And it was all catalogued in Riddler’s mind.

In the play and experimentation, the demon managed to catch Oswald’s usually fleeting physical interest, letting a hand graze over the more stiffened member. It wasn’t a full hard-on, but it gave them a chance to try and make it so. It was enough to work with so they could continue forward. 

Riddler had to excuse himself for the moment with a kiss, going to the bathroom to find lotions he knew he’d seen in there before. Oswald had everything for any sort of self-care in that bathroom, including skin moisturizing. He only needed something basic, not scented would be fantastic. He buried a hand in a cabinet before pulling out a skin-safe, water-based, unscented moisturizing lotion. Perfect. Vaseline could always save the day. Not that he needed it, but it made a more comfortable experience for the human overall. 

The demon took the bottle with him, strolling his exposed body into the bedroom again with the bottle hanging off of his fingers. “Here, put this on yourself and it’ll at least get you started, my body will handle the rest.” 

Oswald took the bottle, staring at it for a long moment. “What does that mean? And don’t we need… a condom or something?”

“That’d be right if you were sleeping with another person, or if someone was penetrating you.” Riddler agreed with Oswald’s question, glad the man was picking up some basic ideas, with his hands pointing in the air to further express his points. “However, you get the freedom of sleeping with an Incubus. I have natural lubricants, but they aren’t from top to tailpipe, if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t.” Oswald’s expression could have been described as attempting to read a foreign language he didn’t know, confused with brow dropped as his mind worked to piece the puzzle together.

Riddler shook his head, taking the lotion bottle back from Oswald as the human wasn’t doing anything with it, pressing the pump handle down to get enough on his hands to begin rubbing over the man’s sexual organ. “What I mean is that there’s approximately two inches of a rectum-like sphincter and muscle system that does not secrete these lubricants, so for your comfort you need a little help to enter and after that our movements will naturally apply what my body produces.” He answered fully, since he seemed to need to, watching as Oswald’s stomach muscles tightened with the hands stroking him to coat him thoroughly.

“And the general protection…”

“Not necessary. If you’re penetrating one of us in our natural state, I should clarify. Probably best with the human guise on as our bodies will respond as a human’s would with no support or assistance. And that would get rather dry and uncomfortable.” And could tear something, but he wouldn’t mention that. “Also,” Riddler kissed Oswald again, rubbing the remaining lotion onto his hands and sharing with Oswald to try and get it off of himself. He didn’t have the right skin cellular structure to completely absorb moisturizer when he was a demon and had to pass it on. “To cover the remainder of the condom topic,” The fiend still standing next to Oswald set the lotion bottle aside now that he was content with the amount Oswald had, turning around to face away before straddling the piece of furniture himself. “I don’t hold onto sexually transmitted diseases like a human does.”

Oswald nodded, simply watching as Riddler seemed to have this all sorted in his mind of how to start, waiting for any instruction to act upon. “I would hope not. Eventually you’re bound to catch something and I’d rather stay clean.”

“Understandable.” Riddler lifted his tail, wrapping it around Oswald’s torso though he could see over his shoulder when he stretched out his wings that the man was eyeing it curiously. “Gets it out of the way. You have no idea how difficult and tedious it is to keep this from draping on or falling onto anything during sex, this is the easiest solution.” 

The man shrugged, not minding the presence of the tail around him. “As long as it doesn’t get any tighter, I don’t think my ribs could handle much more pressure.” He could imagine with that sort of muscular appendage that Riddler could very easily break a number of his ribs with calculated constriction. Even if they weren’t already sore and damaged.

“Right… I’ll be wary of that.” The Incubus promised, bracing his feet on the floor before reaching behind himself to find Oswald’s hands. “Any disease I may pick up during any sexual encounter is gone after 24 hours at most. Advanced healing keeps my body clean and fights off what you humans would be infected with. Anything like crabs, a surface transmitted louse infestation, does not work well as they feed on human blood. A time spent as myself, instead of a human figure, and they die off. They have no interest in my natural blood and I have extremely little hair for them to live in or lay eggs on.” Most of the louse would see him like an animal, uninterested in him until he changed back. It was easier to be himself and get rid of them though. “So I can promise you, I’m extremely clean.”

That seemed like as good of an explanation as any.

And the demon had no interest in spreading anything someone would come back at him for, so he’d usually wait 24 hours between sexual encounters. For the few times he took multiple during a week. Humans liked to point fingers and redirect blame, so deniability was important.

The demon found what he was looking for, placing one of Oswald’s hands on his hip and the other he pushed into the man’s lap. Switching the shoulders he looked over, stretching out his opposite wing to get a better view, he found the second hand again to cup Oswald’s hand how it should be before having the human hold himself along the shaft closer to the end than the base. “Hold it in any way like this, use that support to guide yourself in.” Oswald was in charge, so he should be able to make the most important proceeding step.

The human did as he was told, following the instructions he was given, though made it several inches in with a contorted expression across his face. “This is… by far… the most unsettling feeling, is it normally like this? Like someone is… squeezing it and not letting go… while it sits in an oven…?” 

“That is the main function of a sphincter. To squeeze and not let go. The warmth is because you’ve gotten me rather riled up so my circulation has increased and body temperature, naturally, has risen.” Riddler couldn’t help a bit of a grin, amused by Oswald’s reaction. “It’ll seem different when you start moving. Focus on that when you’re ready, I need no time to adjust.” He allowed, feeling how the man’s fingers seemed to keep adjusting on his hip. 

“Is there… any particular way to do this…? How do I move?” He had so many questions and not enough care for the act to keep them to himself to try and work through it silently. Riddler was the expert and he needed to know what was going on. If he was doing this at all he was going to attempt to do it properly.

Riddler shook his head softly, glancing down to the foot bench before his eyes went back to Oswald again. “If you were penetrating a human there are a few better angles to work with, depending on your size and position. An Incubus has multiple sets of nerve bundles to use, so I wouldn’t worry on that for now.” The demon sunk himself the rest of the way onto the human behind him, using a hand to blindly grab a mitt full of the man’s backside, using that to guide his hips into a rhythm. “Use your better leg as much as you can to help get the extra movement and leverage. If the angle is too awkward I can adjust for you.” He offered his ongoing assistance, tossing his glasses onto the pile of clothes feet from them, not needing them in the way.

The movement made a difference, the constriction and momentum feeling closer to the blowjob he’d gotten, rather than someone holding and squeezing his penis in their hands. “Ooh… Oh, okay… I… Mhmm…” 

“Now do you get it?” 

“I… believe I have an inkling.” 

Riddler grinned, facing forward again as he used his free hand to continue bracing himself slightly off the ottoman to give Oswald the room and angle he needed. “I’ll give you more than an inkling.” He worked in tandem with his partner, meeting Oswald’s movement with a bit of hip work. The Incubus could move internal muscles in a way that humans could only attempt to imagine. He couldn’t vibrate, though there were toys for that, he could very easily adjust the sphincters around his partner at different rates almost independently of each other. He got good responses from the _personal massages_ he could give with some focused muscle work. 

The demon could hear Oswald’s heavy breath behind him, though felt things weren’t complete as the man’s pacing lost its rhythm, becoming more frantic. He was going to spoil it on himself. 

“Oz. You’re losing yourself, talk to me.” He encouraged, not looking to have some high school level spasm thrusting be his partner’s downfall. How unbecoming. 

“I can’t… My other leg… is getting tired…” 

Ah. He was getting desperate to push himself, that was why. “Next time we get a bath first and we have sex in the morning when you haven’t been working and on your feet most of the day.” It would give the man the best shot at his peak physical capabilities. Riddler’s tail adjusted, holding around Oswald’s torso before wrapping under the man’s thigh on the better side to help support him, using the basic muscle structure in it to maintain a more steady rhythm. It gave his partner’s legs a rest but still gave him something to build movement from. “Better?”

“Much.”

The fiend was glad he could do something for the other, be able to MacGyver their way through the sex that the man was curious about. He only hoped he did enough to make it worthwhile to Oswald in particular. Riddler didn’t care if the human didn’t want to pursue the experience again, but he wanted the man to make an informed decision based on positive events. Not saying no because he had a bad time, or said yes because he felt he hadn’t done enough for him. It had to go well, and Oswald’s answer would then be completely unbiased.

With the assistance in pace control, Riddler’s muscles not allowing Oswald to go buckwild without a tempo, he could hear his partner’s voice behind him. Small, under the breath groans becoming louder moaning into the room. There. Finally. He was actually enjoying it instead of hyperfocusing on just being able to finish. 

...Oh.   
Wanting to finish.

Either Oswald really was that physically tired, _or_ he was trying to reach an end to know that he would. As to not disappoint him. He couldn’t know for certain just what the man felt in detail, but either way it only convinced the Incubus more to make their sex a positive experience Oswald couldn’t forget. He was going to be sure the man ejaculated, if it wasn’t called to a stop, he would be damn sure his human was going to get off.

This was all about Oswald, and he was going to be sure his partner got every encouragement possible.

“Oz?” 

“Y-Yes…?” His word was slotted between two moderate level moanings.

“Touch me. Touch my back. If it felt good before, just picture what you could do to me now.” Riddler gave the suggestion, grunting as he swivelled his hips just enough to have Oswald’s assisted pace push into two of the five pleasant nerve bundles he had. 

Touch. Touch was something Oswald could manage. 

The man could still recall that further meant better, so… perhaps he should work up to it. One hand still clutched around Riddler’s hip, a bruising grip on the abnormally thick bone while the other raised carefully to reach the nodules between them. 

Starting between Riddler’s wings he rubbed at one of the bumps, making the demon groan in appreciation, wings fluttering with the delicious shiver that went down his back. The shuddering triggered a soft reaction from each of the nodules on the way down. 

Oswald made it a focus to try and play more with the back bumps, but there was a lot of coordination happening that he wasn’t used to. Was this something people got used to? Could he develop that coordination? He likely could, with enough practice. Riddler would no doubt allow him if his curiosities came about again. Or the fiend may allow him if he proved that he was proficient enough in the sexual act. 

Alright, he had a goal. That he could manage.  
He had the tools before him, he just had to make it work. 

Oswald managed to keep himself working on the task, even as his labored breathing increased, even as his head wanted to lull about, even as he fought to keep one of his hands open. He could imagine what damage his other was accomplishing with his death grip on the Incubus’ hip. 

At a point the man began to lose it, his head falling forward at the same time his hand pushed aggressively against the protrusion above Riddler’s tail, hitting two of the bumps at once by accident. He moaned against the fiend’s back, forehead pushing into the sensitive bump while his hand began to clutch at it like he was climbing a rock wall.

The actions worked well enough that Riddler stuttered in his motions, that hesitation throwing him off his own pacing. The demon moaning in a way that was foreign to him, back arching at the dual pressured overstimulation to an area that normally he kept anything away from. “Aaaahhhhhhzzzzz.” And that moan sounded suspiciously like a name. 

It froze the demon solid, not having expected that from himself and his usual amount of control he had during a sexual encounter. By the feel of it, Oswald completely brought him there by accident. Why else would he ram his head into his back?

Oswald still panted with a long groan, his own noises died down when Riddler entirely stopped moving. It was back to that awkward holding around his length. He warned him about this… “Riddler… are you okay…?” When met with silence he could confirm that this was one of those times that he was mentally hiding and processing. 

So what did he do?

The man couldn’t withdraw, the fiend’s tail had him stuck in place. He didn’t think cradling or tender comforting was the right thing to do. He just had to… wait? 

Oswald occupied himself with stroking a hand along the tail that held him, having his eyes drawn towards a marking he hadn’t had a lot of focus to notice when perhaps he should have. Something that the Incubus never had when they met.

A thin scar was left behind in the Incubus’ ashen grey skin, the blue in his skin seeming more pigmented in the area. It seemed he could heal from average objects with no marring, but just as magical objects could kill him… they could scar him as well. Oswald felt like he wasn’t doing his job if this was the first time he truly noticed the scar since the fiend had gotten it. There’d been so much going on, he’d been either so tired or in poor lighting… He was becoming obstructed from the details and that simply couldn’t be.

Oswald’s hand stroked the tail, only pausing when he could feel it loosen around his body. Huh. He continued to massage the muscular appendage, encouraging it to relax so he could grab it by the end and unwind it from himself. When he was free enough he slipped out from the tail’s grip, setting the appendage down over the side of the ottoman by his leg. 

The man was able to withdraw himself from the demon with a smooth slide, taking himself off the seat and hobbled his way in front of Riddler, noting the fiend’s dead stare into the floor. “Riddler?” No response. “Riddler.” He blinked, so he was registering. “Did I do something wrong? Did I not do something at all?” The man still questioned, bending over at the hip to avoid crouching down. Still, he wanted to be on the other’s level.

There was a bit of a pause, the demon soon shaking his head as he collected himself from his head space. “No… no. It’s something you did, but it’s overall not negative. It’s… something I didn’t expect. I apologize, that’s… less than professional of me.” He spoke, straightening up and got a better look at Oswald. “You seem painfully erect.” 

The man’s brows bounced with a shift of his head, not paying attention to that at the moment. It took several thoughts before he took in where the fiend stared, hands finding a home on his hips. “Yes, well… I had more important matters to attend to. I honestly wasn’t thinking much of it.” He spoke. He was aware, yes, but his general lack of interest kept him from being needy to finish it off in that moment. “May we discuss your issue?”

“...I’ve been encouraging your sharing and conversation, I suppose it’d be contradictory if I didn’t speak my own.” He sighed, eyes catching sight of the leaking organ feet away from him. “That is bothering me. Can I blow you and then we’ll talk?”

“Is it that big of an issue?”

Riddler let go of a breath. “I’m a sexual demon that thrives on the satisfaction of a partner or partners. I hate people, in general, I despise how ignorant and stupid your species can be. Still, I feel accomplished with a physically satisfied partner. Their emotional satisfaction is collateral damage.” He couldn’t even pretend to care about that in almost every case. “Seeing you with a still remaining erection while we’ve… essentially concluded our business, I don’t feel like I’ve done my job. The fact that it’s you, that I… care for you… makes it worse.” The demon looked away with a frown, attempting to adjust his glasses though forgot that the frames were no longer on his face. Right. They were off already. Of course. 

“I see.” Oswald could appreciate the shared information, standing upright as his hands dropped down to his side. “Then while we still have something of a night left, I suggest you finish your job.” He allowed, putting on a more business tone to avoid touching on anything emotional for the demon’s benefit. He took the demon by the horns, guiding him up to kiss him sweetly, unable to keep himself from doing something. The man held it until he could feel his partner return the affection, letting go several moments later. “Now you can begin.”

 

One fantasy filled blowjob and maybe just shy of a minute and a half later, Oswald couldn’t feel his legs any more. Between Blackgate, the long days of getting his plan in motion, attempting to use it as a sexual fulcrum, and then trying to stand while his otherworldly partner gave him rather splendid oral… he was done. His legs were gone.

The man managed his way to the bed, Riddler at his side, the demon sitting on the mattress and invited his partner on his lap. With some adjustment he sat facing the demon, like at the prison with his legs wrapped around the other’s hips and feet crossed under his tail. The appendage carefully encircled them both, keeping them in place while Riddler’s wings closed around them. 

Sex followed by a cocoon?  
He was in more danger than he thought. 

And yet, even with his confusion on how he’d been pulled that far, his spark crackled on pleasantly.

Oswald’s arms circled around the fiend’s chest, holding him in their new position. “So, talk me through your issue.”

Riddler thought for a long moment, not needing Oswald’s eyes drilling holes into him while he spoke. So he wrapped his arms around the man’s back, squishing them chest to chest with his jaw resting on his partner’s pronounced shoulder muscle. “My issue is that I am adjusting to… being so fond of you. I have a set of rules I’ve kept for quite some time in order to have sex remain impersonal. No names called or used. No cocooning. No cuddling. No marking. Even if I appreciate the partner’s company, it prevents attachments.” And normally they were easy rules to follow.

“And yet… here we are.”

“Here we are.” Riddler agreed, holding Oswald in a cocoon after sex, becoming cuddly after he’d accidentally called the other’s name in a surprised passionate moment. Everything he would normally avoid. “I yelled something that… I know I meant to be your name. It doesn’t sit well after over a century of habit, you can understand.”

“I do.”

“That was far more telling than I would’ve liked… in a situation meant to be merely experimental and educational more than anything else. So this suddenly becoming personal…”

Oswald nodded, his chin resting against the other’s shoulder as he thought. “With that explanation I could see your problem.” Or how it could be a problem in the demon’s eyes at least. “Is there a way, in your mind, that you could fix what’s happened?” Riddler lived thinking and solutions, perhaps he had one for this.

“My main method of prevention has been avoidance. I would, in any other situation, part myself from you and sabotage Ed in order to create the most space possible.”

“Sabotage him?”

“I… might be the reason he attempts to choke people he really likes. I might have made it a habit of his after this long.” Riddler admitted with a soft chuckle, finding the explanation somewhat funny. “It’s gotten him into a bit of trouble with most partners.”

“Riddler…” Oswald tried to hold a partially shocked, partially scolding tone, but it wouldn’t hold. The man’s expression breaking into an amused smile after a couple seconds. “Oddly though, it still seems like something he’s capable of.”

“Ed has had dangerous thoughts in his mind before creating me. He’s twisted, humans made him so. Choking is one of the few things he has considered before as an answer to several different problems. Usually in panic. Mother Sphinx loves suffocating her food before she eats it, so I think he really got the idea from her and adapted it as a viable strategy.” Riddler grinned with a smug accomplished smile on his mouth. “I took that idea and made it seem more tempting at times. He took to it like a fish to water.”

“Is it not unreasonable to say Ed is more dangerous than you?”

Riddler’s head tilted as he measured the comparable odds in his head. “We’re both equally dangerous, if I had to guess. Only mine is calculated, very rarely out of the blue. I like to plan who I kill. Assess situations, give someone a chance to escape if they haven’t done me a great deal of wrong. It only becomes personal if they make it so.” This was something Oswald was told early on, though in less detail. “Ed has a spontaneous danger to him, more unpredictable and reactionary. He’s normally quite placid, but I came from somewhere, right? He can normally handle quite a bit, but he doesn’t handle a lot of pressure well. After so much, he snaps. He starts acting out, getting aggressive, and he begins to panic. When he panics during stress he has two levels… Either I step in before he becomes volatile, or he reacts and makes a mess of things.”

“And you step in when possible to save you both from his fallout.” Oswald pieced together, noting that he didn’t believe he’d ever seen Ed truly angry. Arguments with Riddler, yes, but actually angry at something…? He was intrigued by the possibility. 

Riddler nodded against the man’s shoulder, holding him snugly still. “Exactly. I made it his subconscious choice to want to strangle people, especially that he’s attracted to, in order to separate him from who he’s around. It’s much easier to apply prevention to a situation when Ed is trying to keep himself from accidentally strangling another partner.”

“I hope that isn’t your plan in this situation. Though Ed already tries to choke me that I need to handle him for.” Oswald’s ongoing attempt to not be strangled during kissing was a war he might be fighting for some time if this was something Riddler put in his other half’s head. 

“No… I’m rather fond of you, so I’d rather he not commit manslaughter seen as murder.” 

“That makes at least two of us.”

The Incubus’ tail squeezed them slightly without Riddler thinking much of it, it being a thoughtless reaction. Oswald shifted in the hold, trying to keep the tail at hip to waist level to avoid as much of his ribs as possible. 

“Oswald?”

“Yes?”

“Ed is still locked out, never tell him about why this happened. I won’t hear the end of it.”

Oswald believed he could keep the simple request, staring behind Riddler into his wings. “I’ll keep it secret.”

“I would appreciate it.” He leaned back somewhat from their close hold, putting only enough space between them so he could fish for Oswald’s right hand, capturing the appendage in his own to bring it in front of himself. “If we’re beyond a point of sap anyway, what difference will this make?” He questioned, more to himself than Oswald, staring at the open skin available. He was one step from breaking every rule, why not let the world descend into chaos? He’d work on getting over it later. 

Or perhaps this was him getting over his emotional limitations?

One way or another, he would get over something. Whatever that something was, he’d solve as it approached.

 

Early that morning the two managed to settle for bed with their clothes and accessories moved to one of the chairs for safe keeping. The Incubus still didn’t wish to be spooned against Oswald while the human slept. So they settled as they had before, Riddler on his stomach in his human guise with Oswald draped over him. The man complained about the heat still pouring off his partner. The demon acting as a radiator in August was less than ideal, so the fiend’s circulation was slowed to a near stop, dropping his core temperature as quickly as he could. 

Riddler managed to stay down for a couple hour nap before he woke up around 4am, staring through the dark, picking up Oswald’s blurred features with his glasses waiting for him patiently now on the nightstand. 

_“How did he handle it?”_

“Fine.” The fiend whispered to his other half, not needing the volume to have his reply heard. “He did well, and not against future experimentation. If you eventually ever sleep with him, teach him about rhythm. There’s only so much I can do.”

Ed made a bit of a face, looking shy about the idea as he shifted in place. _“He’s all over the place?”_

“He’s hardly controllable, but… it was good, considering.”

_“Mhmm, and that’s where I stop listening.”_ Ed cut off the conversation going further, having no interest in hearing gossip from one side or how his other half used their body. _“Do you have the next step of the courting here?”_

“No, I was going to get them now, have them ready for when he woke.”

_“Alright.”_ There was a brief pause as Riddler’s better half considered his next move. _“He’s going to enjoy them, I think we did well.”_

“Of course we did well. I planned them and drew them out, you put them together. They will be perfect.” 

_“We’re going to blow all our smoke out in courting, we’ll have nothing left for Christmas or birthdays.”_ Ed pointed out with an amused grin.

Riddler got his glasses off the nightstand table, putting them on his nose to look at Oswald again though now he could actually make out the man’s features. “We should take him to meet mother one day.”

Ed considered the suggestion, developing a long smile he was trying to better contain. _“As much as I want to be worried about what she’d do to him…_ You _want her to meet him? You know what happened to the last partner I suggested that with.”_

“Yes, but she wasn’t creative like Oswald is. He is adaptable, we already having him solving riddles. She was a low-level genius, yes, but she had no process of thought for riddles.” Riddler pointed out to his other half, slipping out from under Oswald as he whispered gently. So far, no waking reactions from his partner. “Oswald may not be brilliant, but he’s smart. It’s the difference.” 

_“We should sprinkle a few more riddles into his life.”_ Ed suggested with caution now that they were on the topic. _“Prepare him to meet her, keep testing him to see if he’d be ready. I do love him… I really don’t want Mother eating him.”_

“Agreed, keeping him alive would be preferred.” The demon adjusted his glasses by the nosepiece, taking his naked form to the closet to dig out one of the outfits they’d been leaving behind since Oswald’s incarceration. It didn’t need to be a full suit, but he still needed something good looking. He couldn’t do Ed’s meager-chic, it wasn’t his style. 

Soon covered by dark grey slacks, black dress shoes, a white button-up shirt rolled to the elbows, a vest with a black chest but a stormy grey silken back had him missing one main accessory. His eyes went over his tie collection, considering all his options, which he had many. Still, he was getting attached. Riddler’s eyes continually went back towards an organizational set of drawers at the entrance of the closet, he groaned before letting his head fall against an empty space of rod in front of him with no hangers. “...Crud.”

The demon marched over to the drawers, knowing exactly which drawer he was looking for. Going through the top two sliding containment boxes he found what he could use, a dark grey tie patterned with warped, vertical pinstriping. In the bottom drawer was a silver tie clip he slipped on to complete his slightly more casual, to him, outfit. Vest buttoned over tie and he walked out of the closet, leaving Oswald’s collection of ties neatly packed away just as he’d found them. Only with two things now missing.

He made a quick trip into the bathroom, fussing with his hair, in the reflection. The fiend pushed it back where he preferred it, gelling it in place before he believed he was fixed enough to leave the manor. 

Riddler called a driver, using him to go to his apartment in the city. He and Ed hadn’t seen much of it lately, there had been quite a lot happening but he’d never been contacted about rent again and had a sneaking suspicion that Oswald was now paying it for them without question. Fingers subconsciously smoothed out the already perfectly sitting tie on his chest, glancing to all his momentos. One in particular though was missing from his shelving. 

There was no concern for it missing because he and Ed had made the choice for it to leave the collection. It was apart of the courting process now.

They were in the third stage at this point, he and Ed decided to move on from their current point together while their partner was in jail. They would court Oswald as one. He went to his bed, crouching down and going underneath up to the shoulder to pull out a long box they’d been hiding. He put the box on the bed, leaving it covered for the moment as he went to his gramophone, putting on a record to occupy the empty space of the air. 

Soft, slow jazz music lazily drifted through the apartment, making it feel like an old lounge back in 1943. The demon proceeded to the closet with Ed appearing on the bed, glancing over the box. _“I think we’ve done well. The tests have proved efficient, they’re strong, and practical with elegance.”_

“Practical elegance.” Riddler repeated as he pulled out a more decorative box from the closet, taking it to the bed. He boxed things and ribbon tied them, Ed was more into wrapping papers, bags, and tissue paper. It was the more brutal personality’s idea, so he got to package it. “That sounds like a club he would open.”

Ed grinned, glancing back over to his other half. _“Very indicative of him.”_

Riddler brought the box over, taking everything out of the lesser box from foam to gifts, storing them in the better box. Soon cased and bundled closed with a decorative ribbon. 

_“You’re struggling.”_  
“You’re so intuitive.”  
 _“Do you want to go through with this?”_  
“Of… Of course I do. I’m just not used to it.”  
 _“You want to run.”_  
“I want…”  
 _“Yes?”_

Riddler’s face pulled into a scowl. “I don’t need your pushing, I’m doing fine on my own. I’ve spoken with him. That’s is the end of our conversation.” 

_“You’ve spoke to him about your issues?”_ There was a long moment Ed didn’t say anything, he got off the bed to approach his other half, much to Riddler’s disdain. _“I’m proud of you.”_ He said with a smile, hands tucked behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Riddler rolled his eyes, walking around Ed to get back to the box. “I don’t need your patronizing either.”

_“No patronizing. Genuinely, I am proud of you. At your own pace and with communication with Oswald…? This is quite a change for you.”_

Riddler picked up the package in his hands, tucking it under his arm, turning off the music, and left the apartment without looking at the apparition. He knew what he was trying to do, he didn’t need it pointed out. He still hated everything else, appreciation towards one human shouldn’t matter. 

He clenched his jaw, marching down the stairs to begin the long descent to ground level. The demon got back into the car with the driver waiting, setting the box on the seat beside him, feeling a presence again on the other end of the backseat. “I’m going to tell you this once, so listen closely.” The car began to pull away from the curb as the fiend spoke in a low whisper. “Oswald makes no difference in my usual decisions for anything else. Things are only changed for him, and that’s all. Nothing else. I don’t need you tracking progress that doesn’t exist. Altering for one person doesn’t mean change. If any of these lessons actually meant something, I would care more for humanity. Which, I don’t, because everyone else is utterly useless other than food and entertainment.” He crossed his arms over his chest, rejecting any real personal development.

There was a long string of silence, Ed allowing Riddler to have his tantrum and his pouting. _“You don’t need to care for humanity to change. And you don’t need to change drastically for there to be a difference.”_ There could be small changes that meant more than large ones, it depended on the situation. _“I’m just happy that we finally agree on something. It’ll save some headaches and stomach aches.”_ He pointed out with a soft smile towards his usually more cruel half.

Riddler scowled at the floor, ignoring Ed until he could retort but when he turned to face the seat his other half was gone. Crud. He wasn’t wrong and that was the worst thing… 

 

The Incubus brought the package inside when the driver dropped him off shortly after 5am, wasting time in the manor, working on files, talking with Zsasz, directing the cleaning staff on how to properly wipe down the top edge of a window frame and shelves. Either they were getting lazy or someone stopped trying. He kept himself busy until closer to 9am, taking the box back with him to the bedroom to find the bed empty and the bathroom door shut. 

Hmm.   
Oswald was somewhat ahead of the curve that morning.

He waited patiently on the bed, sitting prim and proper on the edge, fixing a hangnail with his teeth when the bathroom door opened to show a casually dressed Oswald with drying hair matted to his head. “Oh, you’re back.” The human grinned, pleased to see the demon was still around, and judging by the posture he still had Riddler with him as well. “Have an eventful morning?”

Riddler watched as Oswald adjusted the robe over his body, pajama covered legs and a white singlet over his chest for a comfortable morning before business began. Just before the collar of the robe closed the demon caught sight of bruises along the man’s pulsepoint and collarbone, one visible on his shoulder and two on his sternum. The coloring coming from a mix of bites and hickeys. Hm.

“Not in particular, but the kitchen staff is working on your breakfast now and I took a brief trip home.” He informed the other, box still on the messy bed and somewhat obscured from view naturally by the blankets. 

Oswald tied the robe around his waist, intrigued more by the latter revelation of whereabouts. “What was there that you had to go back?” He assumed something was left behind that either side needed, otherwise Oswald could simply buy them a new one.

“I’m glad you asked.” Riddler stood, gesturing his arms towards the bed like a model on a game show displaying the grand prize for the final question. “Why don’t you look for yourself and find out?” He teased his partner’s curiosity, stepping back as Oswald hobbled over to the bed. 

“What have you done?” He questioned, looking over the box, attempting to shake it, but it hardly made a sound. Some muffled shuffling, but nothing more. Odd… 

“We.” Riddler corrected Oswald. “The question would be ‘What have _we_ done?’. Ed and I collaborated on something for you while you were incarcerated.”

The human let go of a bit of a chuckle, setting the box back down on the bed to begin untying the wired, silver ribbon around the decorative black box. “After the prison scheduling, planning the escape, and now this… I’m afraid the two of you will have had your fill of cooperating and I’ll never have you getting along.” He joked, removing the well-tied bow, pushing the ribbon impatiently off of the box.

“If you’re lucky we may collaborate on a couple projects 60 years from now.”

“Ahh, I’ll plan for a massive takeover at that point then.” Oswald got the lid of the box unobstructed, pulling it off and stared at the contents that needed no further reveal. “Where did you find these?”

Riddler’s devious grin spread across his mouth, lighting up his features as his hands clasped together in front of his chest. “We made them. And please, you haven’t even played with them yet.”

“Played with? What do they do?”

“Let me personally show you what they are capable of.”


	23. A Heated Hatred

Oswald rotated the gift in his hand, curious about both of the items he’d been presented with. “Please do, I’d love to see what there is to _‘play with’_ with these.” He put the item he held back in the box, expecting Riddler to take them. 

And the demon did, the entire box. He scooped the package in his arms, nodding to the door. “For this we need to go outside.” He explained, hardly pausing in his movements as he anticipated what Oswald might think.

“Outside? What did you two do?”

“Something we know you’ll have fun with.”

Oswald followed the fiend’s lead, curious about what he could expect with this… display? Show? Demo? Not knowing what to anticipate left him without the best description words, but he’d make due in his mental narrative.

Riddler paused when they got into the back garden, glancing up to the sky for a long moment with a heavy sigh noticeable in his shoulder movement. He mumbled, shaking his head then allowed it to drop before he turned around with a large, excited smile. 

And no longer did he have a Riddler on his hands. “Oh, Edward. You’re getting better with walking into a situation unannounced.” Oswald was beginning to lose track if the other half was doing it on purpose or if he was actually invited to take over. One option being more of a trouble later on.

“We did make these together and worked to get them just right, I want to be sure that you are given each point clearly.” Ed’s hands seemed to fidget together behind his back, Oswald noticing the small squirm in the demon’s biceps and shoulders.

“And…?” There had to be more than only that, Riddler could just as easily describe the points himself.

Ed paused while his teeth held onto his lower lip, the sweeter of the two personalities giving a shy grin. “And… he had you all last night… so… now it’s my turn! And… I was nagging him to let me do this on the walk out.” The personalities were either somehow coming to an agreement of time shared, which Oswald would doubt almost entirely, or they were more open to the other cutting in only because they knew they had more time ahead of them.

Oswald’s head tilted slightly as he fought to keep his smile to a grin, working to stay composed that early in the morning. Who wouldn’t feel complimented at the thought that their romantic interests or their lovers were so keen to spend time with them? It had perhaps been 12 hours and Ed was already claiming a turn switch to be close to him. “Show me what they do, Edward.” He gestured to the box in the demon’s hands. 

The fiend set the box down on a birdbath a few feet away, inviting Oswald over with a beckoning of his hand. “There are two options here, as you can see, that we think could prove useful.” Ed first picked up a standard black umbrella, letting the curled handle hang off his hand held sideways. “We took some inspiration from the current cane you prefer now, how you enjoy your hidden trickeries and use them proficiently.” The demon complimented cheerfully. “So! Item one is an umbrella mixed for an attack at close and mid-range, and defense when needed. This is more of a casual negotiation turned into small arms fight, kind of thing.”

Oswald was passed the umbrella, the man taking it with some mild amusement across his face. “So what does it do? Other than the obvious, how do I kill someone with it?” He questioned, holding it in his hand. “Also, it feels quite heavy.” If worse came to worse, it would make a magnificent hit across the back of someone’s head to dizzy them. 

“Let me show you!” Ed excitedly walked around to the end of the umbrella, holding the tip upwards and outwards while pointing to a small button on the side of the handle. “The top one there, push it, would you?” The man followed the instruction, pressing the top of two buttons with his thumb, triggering a click that slid a blade aggressively out of the end of the umbrella. “Blade number one, at the tip for out of reach needs. Hold the same button and use any surface to push the blade back into the staff.”

Oswald could see the overall excitement across Ed’s face and it was hard to say that it wasn’t infectious. He held the button, pressing the tip of the blade carefully into the base of the birdbath, guiding the blade back in until it clicked in place. Even with button released it stayed inside as needed. “You said that was the first blade?” He questioned, looking at the overall build of the umbrella, taking it in both hands to twist the handle. And like his cane, even with the same locking mechanism, the handle twisted out to expose a dagger that could be unsheathed from the staff. “It feels just like the original.” 

“We made sure to get it just right. It would be a shame to dock the speed and capabilities you have with your hidden dagger now. We thought we managed it quite well.” Ed stated proudly, having no issue in sharing credit with his other half when Oswald was clearly so pleased. “When about to put a knife to a man’s throat, he should be confident in the technique.” A hesitation could leave someone alive instead of bleeding out or suffocating. “Also!” Ed was very excited about the items, gesturing around the handle. “Press the second button.” His finger wiggled as he got Oswald to focus on the other button he’d yet to push.

Oswald sheathed the dagger, locking it in place before holding the umbrella out, pushing in the second button to have the umbrella open slightly. The man pushed it into place, locking it open which only made the weight at the end all the more noticeable. “Alright, what am I to notice of this?”

“Nothing visually, but it feels heavy, right?”

“Yes.”

“More than your average umbrella…?”

“Yeees…”

“And m-”

“Ed. Get on with it.” Oswald instructed, not wishing to lose his temper during a present unveiling, but he didn’t have all day.

“Right, sorry.” He stood at the end of the umbrella, gesturing to the fabric that stretched out between them. “It won’t stand up against everything, but this stacked material is actually bulletproof to a number of guns that shoot .22 rounds, 9mm, even most .45s.” Ed explained excitedly. “It will still be a shock to hold against a bullet, and it may ricochet somewhere else, but you’d be safer in a sudden handgun drawn situation! Which… it’s not even been six months and we were involved in several.”

Oswald shrugged a shoulder casually. “You get used to it.” Although one never got used to being shot or being in the moment of a gunfight, one could get used to expecting a gun to be drawn on them at any moment. It was the nature of his career path. Considering he smuggled in arms from time to time… it was accurate that he saw a lot of gun use in his days. He turned the umbrella over in his hand, rolling the item around to get used to the weight of it. Two blades and a thicker material made a difference, but it wouldn’t be difficult to maneuver. “So, what is the second of these gifts?” 

Edward got into the box again, pulling out a cane styled very similarly to what Oswald had for his hidden dagger cane. “We went through the manufacturer you got the original from, and added a similar penguin head, but as you’ll notice, this penguin has a slightly more straight beak than your standard cane’s. You have an Emperor Penguin, this is more like a King Penguin.” Ed traced a finger over the bill of the bird-resembling cane handle.

“Emperors are better than Kings, but go on.” The man allowed, closing the umbrella then using it to lean on as he’d left his cane inside. 

The demon grinned, holding the cane like he was going to spar with it. It was no sword, but Ed’s stance could have suggested otherwise. “So you push this little button at the base of the handle first.” He pointed it out to Oswald, hitting the button to drop open the beak of the handle like the penguin head was squawking. “With this open, and without spoiling the surprise…” The fiend aimed the cane at a tree about twenty five feet away, squeezing the two halves of the beak together. 

Oswald jumped when a shot went off next to him, heart racing immediately with the sound that normally meant nothing good in his line of work. “It’s… a gun?” He saw chips missing out of the side of the tree.

“It’s a shotgun!” Ed corrected, yelling too loud over the ringing in his ears from the use of the cane with no protection over them. “It fires a .410 bore shotgun shell. You just twist here and pull,” The Incubus showed his partner the steps, clearly pleased with the work on these. “There was a shell in it, so give it a turn.” He dumped out the old shell, reaching for the foam in the box to remove a thin layer of the protective padding, showing several more shells waiting. “Replace the shell, shut and twist. It’s a slam shot, so as soon as this closes and the beak is open, it’s ready to fire. The beak closed is like your safety, but you have to make sure the beak is closed first, then load if you want to carry a shot in it.” He closed the cane gun, holding it safely out to Oswald to try. “Would you like the next shot?” 

The man took the shotgun, handing over the umbrella as he tried the light weight of the cane gun as a whole. “It feels good.” He commented, holding it out with one hand. Having seen the lack of kick in it, he couldn’t imagine he had to hold it two-handed. He aimed at the same tree Ed had, pulling the beak closed and hit the trunk with most of the pellets scattered around the center in a spread pattern. “Interesting. From close range this would be devastating.” He grinned, thinking the damage he could do with a surprise shot if he pushed the cane tip against someone’s chest.

“And, fun little fact for you, you see this inlay?” Oswald nodded at the question, eyeing the gold-colored metal set around the base of the handle, Ed holding out the umbrella to display the copied design on the other as well. “It’s apart of Incubi and Succubae tradition in courting that stage three involves a present that includes something from our own personal collections in some way. Normally jewelry is made of something from a collection to be presented, but this seemed more practical to us.”

“So what of your collection is this?” Oswald pointed, nothing standing out to him that copied that thin metal.

Ed chuckled, brushing his thumb over the design in the handle. “Well, it means a little more to _him_ than me, but this is what _he_ wanted to do with it. The metal came from a glass display case we’d had holding a momento. The one you… temporarily killed us with when _he_ said some incredibly inappropriate things.” The demon knew enough not to dig into that and left the details at the door. “Riddler kept it after we woke up, he took it before the cleaners arrived and hid it in order to have it. What once displayed a memory, became one. It wasn’t overall positive, but… we uhh… Well, we both enjoy your dangerous side.” He admitted with a bashful grin, playing with the umbrella in his hands.

It took Oswald a moment to recall what item it was Ed was talking about. He remembered the incident very clearly, but… “Oh, it was that glass thing. I didn’t really see what it was, I grabbed the first thing that I could at least stun you with.” He admitted, more ready to find how to use what item he took in the moment than to pick out something based on use.

“Yeeaah, _he_ especially likes how spontaneous you can be.” Oswald’s brutality was an always surprising delight. “To the point though, we used the frame from that case to have placed into the staffs of both these. Makes them more of a matching set, and there was enough fo-”

“Boss! We heard shots!” Men rounded the corner of the manor, automatic weapons in their hands, looking around quickly for any signs of opposing forces that could’ve had the gun.

Oswald frowned at the sudden interruption, raising his hands and the cane in the air. “And I could have been dead fifteen minutes ago! What took so long?! I was gone for less than a month and now you’re all so lazy you’ll get me killed!” He snapped, walking away from Edward to continue his rantings. “Leave, the shots were nothing. No one else is out here. Go do your work!” He shooed them off, waiting for the group of guards to head back inside before he moved to Edward’s side again. “Incompetent…” 

Edward waited patiently, holding the umbrella in front of his chest, always busy fingers rubbing over the decorative tips at the end of each supportive arm of the closed rain blocker. “So, do you like them?” He questioned excitedly, wanting to know just how well they might have done. They knew the human in reasonable detail at this point, guessing something he could practically use and something special with him in mind was something of their job at this stage of the relationship. 

Oswald considered the question, taking in what he knew of Incubi from Edward and Riddler at that point. “I like them very much, Edward, yes. I look forward to seeing what they can do in the moment. You seem confident on their construction, so I trust they will do their job.” The best way to make them happy, that he knew of, was both to accept and use these things. Which he had every intention to, the engineering was something he would have interest to field test. To return the favor though… Something in his collection to make into something else to give to them. Hmm.

Wait…

“Edward, is that my tie?” Oswald asked, though he knew very well that it was. He’d worn that several times before, but not any day recently. 

“Huh?” Ed glanced down to his chest, fully aware that his other half had made bold dressing decisions that morning in thieving accessories from their partner’s suit accoutrement drawers. “Would you look at that, I suppose there’s a chance it might be.” He answered with a small shrug. 

“Why did either of you steal one of my ties?”

“It isn’t stealing!” Ed was quickly on the defense, having a habit of knicking small items from people he romantically liked to begin with. “We had every intention on returning it! Just… not until the end of today. It’s borrowing.” He laid a hand over the tie just below the knot under his collar, petting it once without thought. 

Oswald gestured to the box with a knowing grin, a plan forming in his head. “Put the umbrella away, Dearest. I should change so that we may tackle the day. I’ve rested, I’ve returned, you are here by my side, we have much to do.” The man directed, using the cane still to help walk himself back to one of the manor’s doors. Before he turned around, he could see how Ed eyed the item in his hand and was grinning happily to himself. 

They truly adored a used or shown item. It was a sweet quality they had no real control over, but it didn’t make it any less appealing to fulfill.

The pair returned inside, allowing Oswald to get changed out of the robe and pajamas into something more presentable for himself. And something a little taller in the collar. Although it was August, he’d rather be sure that the obvious love markings were covered and kept from the general public’s eye. 

That and he didn’t know entirely how to feel about them. 

On the one side they were reminders of the sexual encounter, which… thinking back on it felt more odd than being in the moment. Oswald had a sinking feeling that he should have felt more awkward than he had, that he shouldn’t have had as good of a time. How one produced what… felt similar to guilt over nothing was confusing to say the least. He’d blame being new to the experience and it normally not being his cup of tea. An adjustment period, that was all that was needed.

Probably.

On the other hand, they were possessive markings that were not unlike what Riddler had been making on his wrist lately. The mental reminder had Oswald adjusting his sleeves further down, moving his arm about to be sure the fresh demon marking was covered. They were sweet, in their own way. He knew the Incubus was possessive of what he liked, that either side of Edward did what they could to look out for him or care for him. The marks were like that. Blown out blood vessels that reflected the kind of care and attention they gave him to be sure he was comfortable.

It was sweet.

Oswald dared another quick peek, pulling back his collar to see a glimpse of the highest marking in the middle of his neck along the side. It was a dark purple, bruised and somewhat tender when he brushed fingers over it. Something the human noted in the moment was that Incubus teeth were not sharp. He expected them to be a little more like razor blades, like with how dangerous the demon’s nails could be. In that he was wrong though. Even with the fiend’s longer fangs they weren’t incredibly sharp, they were actually quite rounded and seemed more for crushing than for slicing. They had a tip, but perhaps he thought too heavily towards animals and vampires when he thought of fangs.

The man pushed his collar back in place, tying his cravat a little tighter. They didn’t need anyone finding out about his markings, or anyone bothering him about a possible lover. The only one left around that knew was Zsasz, and that he could handle. He had a position to take back with his men and with Gotham, he wanted to return in full power without any distractions about his personal life.

Back to business.   
Back to being the boss.

 

When Oswald was ready he met Ed in his office with a small stack of folders in his hand, standing next to his desk and prepared to start the day. Breakfast sat in waiting at the top corner of his desk, the demon having an inkling that his partner would want to do as much as possible in one sitting and wouldn’t be ready to take the time out to eat after they already spent a break goofing off that morning. 

The man ate as they went, everything he had were things he could grab with his right hand while he signed off on documents with his left. Small pastries, breakfast meats, slices of fruit, and a cup of tea to top it off. Edward kept them on a timed schedule, something Oswald was grateful for.

The fiend even kept the legal tasks separate from the illegal ones. Having a second round of business just for that.

At lunch Ed had something brought up, wanting Oswald to have three full meals a day again, no prison portion or quality. He was going to eat just like he had before. The demon would be sure of that. And in turn, Oswald fed Ed a new collection of souls to be sure his partner stayed as nourished as he did. And he’d promised to feed them a time ago, but in the _excitement_ … it somewhat slipped his mind. 

Edward was getting better with not attempting to strangle the man during feedings. The hand still wandered for his neck, but he was better in not applying any pressure. And that, Oswald could count as an improvement. 

Before dinner the two could spare a break, relaxing as Oswald’s dinner was cooked, the man making mental plans of what he had to do that night for the Iceberg Lounge. After his big reveal party, and the bodies in his office, it needed a few days off before the police would let him in again to run his business. He’d only be granted permission after it was processed entirely then cleaned. Though he would have his own people go over it again, he didn’t trust the crime scene cleanup crew the GCPD had to make sure everything was spotless.

Oswald sent Ed to see how progress with the Lounge was going, wondering if it was still actively a scene or if the police had managed to pick up the pace.

With the demon gone, he was free to make a phone call in order to surprise his partner later. Oswald warned the man on the other end not to call him in return. When it was done he should call Zsasz directly to pick up the delivery. If there was anyone who could sneak around the demon, it’d be his hitman. 

When Ed returned a squad car was with him, though with lights off it seemed more positive than concerning. Oswald found it incredibly difficult not to be at least a little smug when Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock came to his door with a pardon and an apology, both cops were still suspicious and though they asked about who broke him out, Oswald refused to say anything of it. 

No questions of Walon arose, Oswald making sure that the new warden of Blackgate, _his_ warden, lost Walon’s records for the prison. Whoops. How unfortunate. 

The kid earned a break and should get to relax.

They learned they would need to wait at least another day to get into the main area of the club, though his office would still be off limits for a day after that. Annoying, but manageable. 

After dinner, Oswald got to hear of many of the new appointments and meetings that were stacked up for the next few days. It would be busy times, but it was to be expected after a month out of the job and Barbara’s damage needing to be settled. He had to either win back or force back all of his former loyalties and he was willing to do whatever necessary to claim everything he had and more. The demon had kept things relatively under wraps, but he couldn’t blame them for losing some support. It was to be expected.

Oswald checked the schedule details, making adjustments where necessary because he knew some people would need a longer talking to than others. Some would be reasonably fast with blackmail, others needed to be _convinced_. 

 

Night came fast enough after the long day, Oswald needing to forcibly shove Ed to the other side of the bed as he frowned. The demon was too happy to have Oswald back, his spark was crackling wonderfully, but his circulation was going too strong. Ed, like Riddler last night, was a portable heater and he was unbearable to be next to in the heat of the night. It was only when Ed settled down and proved he could stay relaxed that the man let the fiend anywhere near him. As much as Edward wanted to cuddle full on into Oswald, the man didn’t trust he wouldn’t start heating up again at some point. Riddler had incredible emotional control, to calm himself and not let his mind trigger his spark. It was a talent, really.

Ed, however, was so much more adorably attached.  
He cared so much… 

Both of them did in their own ways. 

Oswald knew how they got there, in their emotional closeness, but… it almost seemed too good to be true. Too good for things he’d done, if he went by how his mother described it. That true love came to those good people who were so lucky to find their other half. Though, as Riddler had explained to him, it was because of what he’d done that got the Incubus’ attention to begin with. His willingness to be fatal and brutal was a charm he had. So really, it wasn’t too good to be true… technically, he earned their adoration and their connection. 

It seemed odd. It contradicted what he’d been told of love, yet it followed along perfectly.

And there he was, enjoying the company of one of his _two_ partners that he earned the respect and care from. And there he was participating in the courting culture of his partners and learning about their lives. There he was learning what it was like to be comfortable with someone in every way. 

The two lay together, Ed on his back as he preferred, long limbs spread out with Oswald against his side. The man’s poor leg propped on a combination of Ed’s leg and a pillow, an arm draped over the fiend’s abdomen, and his shoulders beneath the demon’s outstretched arm. It let Oswald rest his head against the other’s silent chest, feeling a face leaning into a less styled section of his hair. 

So domestic.  
So peaceful.  
So comfortable.

So…   
Everything his mother used to describe to him how being so deeply in love with someone felt. That it was natural. It was the most beautiful feeling in the world. It should feel like floating away, even when you’re being held. It was getting lost in little things. Wanting nothing but more time with them.

“...Edward.”

“Mhmm?”

“I…” Was it the right time? Was it the point to try? Was this what he was supposed to be doing? Should this be over a dinner? A date? 

“Yes, Oswald?”

Ed told him in a situation similar, so… why should it be any different? “Edward… Ed… I…” He was so glad he wasn’t looking the fiend in the eyes, that would be so much more intimidating. His hand held more onto the Incubus’ ribs on the other side, breath skirting Ed’s guised skin. “I… love you too.”

The demon’s head lifted off of Oswald’s, taking in the moment. “Was I not…? Did you…?”

“You told me that you love me, Ed. Well, I love you too.” Once it was out it felt so much easier to repeat, the man only needing to jump the proverbial barrier at first.

“You do?”

“I do.” 

Ed was silent for a few moments. The demon himself made no noise as his lips pulled into his mouth, knowing very well that he had to try and keep himself contained to a degree. However, his chest began to fill with a crackling Oswald could hear building very quickly from nothing into an active popcorn maker. The spark pushed his body to react positively, heating the demon with the good news. 

“Eugh. I take it back, I hate you… stop it.” Oswald corrected, using both of his hands to shove himself away from Ed using the chest he had been perched so comfortably on as a stable surface.

“No you don’t! You said you love me.” Ed grinned, rolling over towards Oswald with a long smile.

Oswald braced the two hands firmly against the fiend’s chest, keeping them his arm’s length apart. “No, I think you heard me wrong. I absolutely said loathe. Yes, I loathe you. So much hatred, all the time. I’ll love you in November, until then all the hate in the world.” He set a time for his love to resume again, when it wasn’t so hot and he could stand to be around that kind of built warmth. 

Oswald liked his pajamas, and like his sheets, he liked to keep the layers. The house had no air conditioning, only fireplaces that would light as soon as possible in the year. Even the prison had better circulating air than his manor. And it was too warm to have an excitable radiator wanting to hold him like tomorrow wasn’t going to happen. 

“That was a very clearly pronounced ‘v’ and no ‘th’.” Ed pointed out, his longer arms able to take the man closer to him in order to give him a long hug, wanting to express his happiness despite Oswald’s head falling backward with his tongue stuck out. “And I love you.”

“I loved you more eight minutes ago…” 

 

It was a struggle to define space until Ed could calm down, his ongoing spark kept him from turning down his circulation entirely. Oswald needed to suffer with the slightly warmer environment in order to give the fiend a bit of the cuddling he desired and the closeness Oswald himself wanted internally. 

Morning came soon enough with light sneaking into the room between the not completely closed curtains, Oswald’s eyes cracked open to see a figure inches from the end of his bed. The man jumped back, immediately bumping into Ed who was wrapped around him like a baby animal clinging to its mother. 

“Hey boss.” Zsasz’s voice took Oswald to a more settling conclusion of the situation, making him relax now that he knew it wasn’t a stranger standing at the bedside. “I got a call this morning from your _guy_ , said the _things_ were ready. So here they are.” He spoke, relaying the situation before dropping the box in front of Oswald on the mattress. “You two look so snug and cozy.”

“He’s a little attached.”

“I’m happy.”

“You’re awake?”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking.” Zsasz grinned, having nothing better to do that morning than to share in a conversation with Ed physically over Oswald that morning once he had his expected chores handled. “Well, you love birds have a wonderful morning. I have to go… do… stuff.” He excused himself, walking away from Oswald’s side of the bed to go to the door.

“You’re going to see Walon, aren’t you?” 

“What? Nooo… That’s crazy. I’m going to go see a totally different genetically altered friend.”

Oswald wiggled himself around aggressively in Edward’s hold, pushing himself up on his side to try and see around the demon’s shoulder in order to best glare at Victor with no obstruction. “You had better have gotten your work done before you go see him!”

“I did, I did. Promise, Mom. Now can I go out and play?”

“Did you clean your torture room?” Zsasz stared at Oswald for a long moment, remaining entirely still despite the answer that was being waited on from him. “Well, Victor?” Still nothing in return, only the bald man taking two steps back towards the door. “Victor!” Another two steps. “You finish your work or so help me, I-”

“Uh-huh, that’s great, see you later, I’m going to go see my friend, bye!” Victor slipped out the door without a care to the question, shutting the bedroom barrier behind him. Both bodies still inside able to hear his footsteps running down the hall. 

Ed still had his arms around Oswald, a shirt covered chest in his face from his partner’s positioning that blocked the mysterious parcel from sight. “It doesn’t seem like your parenting methods are working.” He commented, having noted long ago that unless it was a direct business order, Victor didn’t listen well. Even in business he didn’t entirely listen, but he did get his work done. 

“Did he listen to you while I was gone?” Oswald questioned, laying back down since Victor wasn’t about to come back, fitting himself between Edward and the box.

“Hardly, he got his work finished, but his listening skills were pretty poor.” Ed lifted his head to peek around Oswald, curious about the box behind his partner. “What’s the delivery for?”

“Victor didn’t tell you?” Ed shook his head in reply. “Ah, well, he is still doing his job then. Why don’t you have a look? It’s for the both of you.”

“Victor and I?”

“No. What would you and Victor even share? No, the _other_ both of you.” 

“Oooh.” The demon parted somewhat from Oswald, just enough so he could reach over the man to retrieve the box, both of them sitting up under the covers. The man adjusted his leg in better position as Ed scanned the box for any addresses he might be able to pinpoint mentally before opening. He loved trying to solve gifts before opening the package. “No mailing address. So Victor wasn’t lying when he said he’d picked it up that morning.”

“Mhm, I specifically requested no identifying markers. You’re too nosey for your own good.” Oswald stretched next, catching Ed shaking the box in his peripherals, listening for anything loose inside. “And there’s enough foam and cushion in there that it won’t move.”

“You’re cruel.”

“It’s something you apparently love about me.” The criminal’s grin told all, gesturing to the box now sitting in the fiend’s lap. “Open it, have fun with it.”

Ed’s head tilted to the side, reaching to the nightstand to get his glasses, putting them on to be able to see just what he was dealing with. The lid of the box was removed, and then a layer of foam cushioning, revealing neatly folded tissue paper with a solid black sticker keeping the edges folded down. “Interesting.” He pulled the sticker up as carefully as he could, barely tearing any of the paper it stuck to, unfolding the edges to expose a tray of fabric strips in varying patterns and dark colors neatly tucked beside each other. Something was off about them. They seemed familiar… The demon carefully took one out of the line up, two rows of professionally folded ties ready for inspection. 

“What do you think?”

“I think… Why do-” The Incubus gasped with a wide mouth, keeping one tie in hand as he slid out from under the box entirely, leaving the bed quickly to look in the closet. “Oswald, you didn’t…!” Edward tossed open the door of the walk-in closet, ignoring the tie drawers his partner had in order to look at the hangers. 

“Oswald, I did.” The man returned with a smooth smile, thinking himself rather clever at the moment. He got the best presents for people when he wished to. There really were few things money couldn’t supply. And who better to spend his gathered wealth on than either side of the demon he had around?

The fiend’s head poked out of the closet when his inspection finished, holding the tie against his singlet covered chest, hardly covered with boxer briefs keeping tabs on his lower half. “You got rid of your suits for these.” He pointed out, going back to the box, leaning over the side of the bed in order to dig through the other options, recalling each and every suit they were made from.

The man stayed in the bed for the moment, curiously watching as Ed took out each tie and hung them carefully over his forearms to observe them. Even the exposed underbelly of the tie was decorated with what was the lining from the suit jackets. “I didn’t get rid of them all. It will soon be fall and I have a new rotation about to begin. Normally I would keep my favorites of each season, but… when you mentioned that this stage’s courting gift normally included some kind of addition from one’s own collection, this seemed like the natural choice. I do not collect many things that I, personally, treasure as you do your hoard. My suits, however, I do. I like them very much, and seeing as you are not one to wear jewelry either, I had to debate what was useful to you. Even casually dressed you wear ties, it solved itself, really.” 

It was obvious when Ed looked behind himself, muttering as he studied every tie that he was speaking to Riddler, able to pick out each suit they were from and when he’d seen them. His mind was a trap for detailed information. “These are perfect, thank you Oz.” He finally spoke, only announcing the decision after he’d gone over each one with his other half. The demon went to Oswald’s side of the bed, taking the man’s head in his hands to kiss him lovingly, ties dangling from his arms. “Luckily… we…” The demon tried to fit his words between affections. “...don’t have a… meeting… until 10.” 

“I’m… not going… to need a… bath… am I?” Oswald had some concern in the back of his head that he might have triggered an Incubus desire he hadn’t meant to. So soon after the last… not really something he wanted to participate in. Not for a time yet. 

The fiend shook his head, his hair looking somewhat wavy on the ends that morning. “No.” He answered easily, leaning back to get a better look at the human. “I just want to kiss you for a bit.” 

Oh.   
Oh good.

“Uh, yes. Then please, proceed to kiss away.” 

A loved one and languid kissing felt like a natural combination for a morning, Oswald decided. They were in no hurry to get ready and he trusted Ed knew the time. It felt… relaxing. Natural. Easy. Now that deeper worries were out of his mind, just kissing was a wonderful suggestion. 

And Ed still only held his neck with no pressure applied. He was getting better!

An alarm sounded the two from their peaceful world away from everything else, Ed glancing to the narby clock to check the time. “I’m afraid we’ll have to schedule the rest for later in the day. We have to get ready to leave in an hour’s time.” 

“There was more…?”

“With how happy you make us?” Edward questioned Oswald as he gathered the ties that had slid from his arms and onto the bed. The demon folded most of them back how they were to display them in the box again. Except for one. One would be his tie for the day. The displaying of said present was further reflection on just how happy he was made by it. It could replace the one of Oswald’s that was _borrowed_ that he had planned on wearing again. “Oz, why is our love and adoration for you like pi?” Ed questioned, going to the closet to grab one of the suits he’d been keeping inside. It was a business day, so he should be dressing in a more presentable way. 

“Like pie?” Why was it like pie, what an odd riddle. “Is it because the quality is so good it makes you want more?”

“What…?” Ed had to take a moment to realize that Oswald hadn’t had the right pi. “No, not pie the food. Pi, like 3.1415926535897932384626433-”

“Alright, I get it. A lot of numbers, it goes on eternally.” The man summarized, not looking to go on a trip of every number that was in the pie or why it was such a long number. He loved Ed, sure, but… not _that_ much to listen to every number.

“That’s it! It’s infinite, specifically, was the answer.” Still, Oswald had the right idea. Their human was so smart.

The man was soon behind the demon, going through his own section of the hangers to get out his suit choice for the day. A styling check up in the bathroom, the suit pulled on and Oswald was ready for his meetings. Ed was at his side with a schedule book, the fiend holding onto a pleased smile when his partner took the special courting cane for their day out. 

“Let’s see if we need to do any extra _convincing_ today with this. I’m excited to see what damage it can cause.” 

“If it’s anything like a human-based dummy, and that is the whole point to have one is that they are human-like, it will make a controlled mess.”

“Perfect. That will paint quite a clear picture for whoever is left to speak with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took much too long to do, I'm sorry.   
> There's a few things going on I'm excited to talk about soon, and then my birthday pushed things off further.
> 
> We're back on track though!   
> And now Edcubus with an ending in sight. Probably 3 chapters left.  
> Not including add-ons I'll tie to the series in their own one-off chapters.  
> Already have ideas for one-offs that include Mother Sphinx, and one for a Nygmobble family.   
> They aren't necessarily canon to the universe, but are within the same Mythical AU.


	24. If I Could Turn Back Time

Oswald was excited more than ever for the next opportunity that he had to kill someone. He wouldn’t do it for no reason, but as soon as he was given one he was going to see just how well Ed and Riddler’s invention of engineering worked. Not that a cane gun was a new invention, but it was something new to the demon's hand of creation, so that was still something to test and praise. It made a reasonable hole in the tree in the backyard, it should do just as well going through a person. 

The man kept his new toys with him wherever he went, much to the fiend’s delight. Oswald could see it in his eyes anytime he walked into the room with cane in hand that the other was first judging to see if it was the one they gave him and second developing a small sense of pride and excitement over it, indeed, being their given present. It was endearing to see the Incubus so caught up on something that seemed so small. It thrilled Riddler especially when Oswald finally had the opportunity to use it.

The club owner called a meeting for several of his higher ranked men, ones that he trusted with more important tasks that he couldn’t simply leave to any old Tom, Dick, or Harry. The lieutenants, of sorts, for his crew. Zsasz sat close to Oswald’s left, Riddler on the right, and he was at the head of the table. He was able to look down the length at everyone and it was how he enjoyed it most. It was comfortable to have everything in front of him. Near the middle of the meeting a knock could be heard at the door, all heads turning to it in some anticipation. 

“Come in!” Oswald called, having been waiting for a signal that seemed to come in a low sounding knock that nearly shook the door itself.

The door opened to its full extent, Waylon Jones walking in to stare at Oswald. 

**“You called me.”**

“I did, Waylon, yes. Thank you for coming.” Oswald greeted him pleasantly with a smile, noting the unsure faces on most of the men. 

“Hello again Waylon.” Riddler was polite, greeting the crocodilian man, having no intention on getting on any of the younger man’s nerves. 

“Waylon, you’re here?” Zsasz questioned, an immediate small smile pulling at his mouth.

**“I am. I don’t know why…”**

Oswald stood from his seat, walking with his cane to stand by the scaled man to address him more directly. “I wanted you to meet the others of this organization. Even if you do not directly work for me, I’d like the others to know that if they meet you in any situation that you are on our side and there is no worry.” He needed something of a meet and greet between his new star pupil and the rest of his men.

“That thing is working with us? What?!” One man protested, but it was something Oswald wasn’t surprised about. He needed a reason to get rid of this one and this was the perfect excuse. “No way! I’m not doing it! Nu-uh! With that freak?”

“Do you have a problem with this?” Oswald questioned the lieutenant at the table, addressing the man in the cheaper suit who got up from his chair.

“I do! What the fuck?! Where did you find this thing?”

Zsasz was the next to take offense while a low hiss formed in Waylon’s throat. “He’s not a _thing_ , he’s a guy!” The hitman pointed out, wanting to defend his friend from the insensitive individual.

“That is no guy. That’s a fucking thing. That’s a fucking animal. And you’re bringing him in?” The man stared at Oswald with a slack jaw, hand gesturing to the beastly young adult before them.

Oswald nodded calmly, thumb carefully brushing over the side of his cane’s handle. “I am. He’s intelligent, he’s strong, and he’s genuinely intimidating on sight without trying. He’s going to prove to be a very capable addition when he sees fit to participate.” The man still gave Waylon the freedom to choose when and if he assisted, but so far Waylon was open to the idea.

Whether that was because of some understanding, or if it was because of Zsasz’s pressed friendship… he couldn’t entirely be sure. He wouldn’t be picky though, whatever put the wall of muscle and teeth on his team was okay with Oswald. 

“That’s insane!”

Zsasz got out of his chair, walking towards the man insulting his friend. “What’s insane is-”

“Zsasz, please. Let me handle this.” Oswald pointed at the chair under the assassin with his cane, shooing one of the other lieutenants at the meeting out of the seat across from the protestor. Both men sat down, the protestor looking quite flustered while Oswald took the chair with a peaceful demeanor. The two men on either side of the crime lord got up from their chairs, moving away with caution and care for their lives. 

No one insulted Penguin’s decisions. Insulting one of his decisions was the same as insulting him. Let alone insulting anything he favored. 

“Boss, you should reconsider this. This is a bad idea.” The man figured himself bold, trying to lay it out for his employer. “I haven’t been here long, but I know how these things work. That _thing_ is a giant muscle machine, they flip sides like a coin!”

“I can tell you haven’t worked for me very long. Do you know how I can tell?”

“Because you remember m-

“I can tell because ANYONE ELSE VALUES THEIR LIFE!” Oswald recalled, eyes darting to the gentlemen around him. “Do you see your peers here attempting to stick up for you? No. And why? They know better.” Oswald threatened, slapping his hands onto the table for dramatic effect. “Frederick, what do you know?” Oswald questioned the man who had left the seat to his right.

Frederick knew where he belonged on the pecking order, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “You listen to who’s above you. More than that, you listen to Penguin. Boss knows best.” He answered simply. “If you wanna make a suggestion, make it nice.”

“Boss knows best. And make it nice.” Oswald repeated with a nod, eyes focusing on the other again. “I don’t think those things are too hard to forget. They seem reasonable to follow. With some added loyalty in there as well.” He tacked on, loyalty also being quite important in a job of hits and backstabbing. “If you can’t follow those simple rules… well, that is sad to hear.” Oswald’s head rolled to the side, the man glancing away as a heavy sigh escaped him. 

“Boss, no! I listen, of course you know what you’re doing!” 

Backpedaling was a talent for most henchmen, as though it was a job requirement. However, one should not need to use backpedaling to begin with.

Oswald moved to rest his cane on the table, his thumb grazing over the button, releasing the beak to open, pulling it closed with little pressure. A bang came from the cane itself, the man across from Oswald tilting back in his seat at the force, but not enough to fall over. The man slumped over, blood sprayed behind him on the floor. 

Riddler could hardly contain his excitement as he bounced in place, mouth wide open with a laugh. It looked just as lovely through a person as it did a dummy. How exhilarating. 

Zsasz’s smooth brows raised, moving over to the body curiously. “That’s some new toy, Boss.” He commented with a chuckle, clearly amused by the surprise shot. He examined the body, leaning the dead man back to see the wounds. “You shredded him so good in this one spot.” He commented, picking up the corpse’s hands to marionette him in his seat. “ _He’s just an animal, and I’m a loud mouthed dumb-dumb who doesn’t value my life._ ” He tapped the dead man’s hand off the slumped, bobbing head, grinning at the temporary play toy.

Oswald tsked as he twisted the cane, popping it open to eject the used shell, loading it with another before following Ed’s safety instructions on how to close it passively. “Does anyone else in this room have an issue with Waylon Jones being apart of the team?” He questioned, not bothering with raising his eyes to those left around him. 

With no immediate protests he rose from his seat, locking the cane’s penguin beak closed for the time being. He used the walking stick to head for the door of the room, patting Waylon on the arm as he passed. “Welcome to the team, Mr. Jones.” Oswald got to the door, turning only to eye Riddler over his shoulder. “Edward?” He called expectantly to the demon still eyeing over the body.

“Hmm?” His head lifted and Riddler caught that it was time to go, Ed whining in the back of his head as both sides were invested in the damage dealt. “Oh, uhh… yes, coming.” He wove around the other lieutenants, joining Oswald to leave the assassin, the beastial man, and the individual group leaders alone with the corpse. 

They were several steps out of the door, the fiend keeping a very level head with a poker face on. It only took a few words from Oswald to break his external stoicism. “I can have the cleaners collect the body for you, take it downtown and let you examine it more closely.” He had one morgue under his payroll, not nearly enough, but it did the trick. The rest he found people with creative ways to dispose of leftovers.

“Can we?” Riddler’s attention was immediate, eyes snapping to the human beside him. He was quite serious, wanting to know just what he’d be able to do.

Oswald shrugged in return, hobbling down the hallway towards his office. He had a few phone calls to make that were now added onto his day’s schedule. “I don’t see why not. I saw how you and Ed reacted around the crime scene before. If you wish to dissect a body and science your way through what’s happened, I think I can have someone set you up in an examination room.” He allowed, grinning to himself at the excitement that was nearly radiating off the Incubus. “You’ll do it on your own spare time, but I will make it happen.”

Riddler got the office door, having Oswald go in first. With door shut firmly behind them it took only a moment for the demon to smoothly step in front of the man, hands taking his face to share an appreciative kiss. His other half would be bouncing off the walls, but he had better self control than that. Even as one kiss ended, lips lingered for another. A third required a slight adjustment of head angle, while the fourth came naturally in their position. Oswald’s grip on his cane stayed true with one hand, but the second felt a need to be known so it chose to use the fiend’s tie as a point to anchor itself with. 

The demon left little room between them as their fourth affection reached a natural conclusion, hands still on either side of Oswald’s head, but they had slid back slightly from where they started. His thumbs had once sat over cheekbones and now rested comfortably between jaw and ear. “I know what you’ve told Ed recently. That you love him. Do you… love me?” He broached the situation directly, curious if there was anything that Ed was getting that he wasn’t. This corpse gift was his to examine and Ed couldn’t have it this time. He could watch, but he wasn’t taking over.

The more cruel side of the demon had a more confrontational jealousy than Ed. Ed felt jealousy from a distance, got what he wanted by skirting around things. Riddler felt jealousy directly, and moved forward to take what he wanted by any means. 

Oswald couldn’t help the bit of the smug grin on his face, feeling somewhat proud that he managed to make an otherworldly being crave his love and attention. Normally humans were boring, he remembered being told, but there he was with a demon that sought to convince others that they loved him asking for his love instead. He was so impressive. “I do. I love you as well. Both of you have your own charms and characteristics to appreciate. Both of you make me feel that I love you and all of what you are.” 

Riddler absorbed the information, nodding gently, something weighing on his mind as his mouth adjusted in thought. “I feel… many things that I have not before, and as much as I would like to reflect your sentiment…”

“If you do not love me, Riddler you don’t need to feel forced to say so.” Though one couldn’t deny that being rejected that kind of returned emotion didn’t sting at least a little. 

“No. That’s not entirely it.” He denied, trying to find the best way to present his point, unnecessary breath tickling Oswald’s skin. The two remaining incredibly close in their position in front of the inside of the office door. 

Oswald kept his eyes on the fiend, taking in what he could of the other’s reactions. “Then it’s the commitment to feeling again.” He deduced, that being the only other clear option for the demon half. 

“Then you understand the difficulty.”

“I understand your difficulty to a degree.” The man agreed, eyes locked with the fiend who’s hands sunk to rest on his shoulders. “You do feel deeply for me though?”

“...Yes.” 

“Do you love me?”

Riddler’s eyes briefly met the floor, head a whirlwind of activity, trying to keep Ed out of this business. The last thing he needed was the other prying at him at the moment. “I think that is a possibility, but I don’t know how to confirm that.” Love was an Ed emotion. Connection and bonding was Ed’s influence. Normally. Now having deep seeded possible feelings he denied at every turn in every point of his life… they were difficult to suddenly identify. And worse off, he didn’t know what to do. Not knowing was, by far, more frustrating than the feeling itself. 

“I don’t expect you to say it before your time. And I have no interest to force it from you. That does neither of us any good.” Oswald began, tongue darting over his lower lip, mouth hanging slack as he plotted in his mind. “How about we make a deal?”

The Incubus lifted his head somewhat, looking down his nose at the man in front of him. “I’m listening.” Their deals hadn’t gone awry yet, they were mutually beneficial. He trusted Oswald to give him something fair he could agree with. 

“If I tell you that I love you, you do not need to feel required to return that exact sentiment in those words. Use your own version. Something you are comfortable with. Tell me what your equivalent is, for whatever stage of feeling you’re able to identify.” Oswald tried to find something agreeable for his partner, something comfortable that wouldn’t drive him away with the overcrowding of emotional response and feeling.

“I… don’t believe I understand…”

Oswald rolled his eyes, thinking he’d spelt it out rather clearly. “If I tell you that I love you, you could… I don’t know, share a particular delivery of affection, use a different phrase in return… You could perform a particular action. Something, whatever you wish.” The man attempted to specify more without telling Riddler what to do by the letter. This gave him options to explore and choices, things he could dig into further with research and testing.

Riddler thought of the suggestion carefully. Though, honestly, the thought of the directed love comment didn’t make him entirely comfortable either. Hmm. A different phrase though… now that was an idea. “Then why don’t we have our own phrase? Different from… that typical human exchange. I could see why Ed likes it, it’s so traditional. We, however, are not traditional, so why should we bind ourselves to these expectations?” He questioned, going over phrases and statements in his head that better suited his abilities to share. He had a noticeable issue with jealousy and possession at times, maybe something possessive could be reflected. 

“Then what do you suggest?”

“You are _my_ human, so I suggest something that displays that idea.” He stated unafraid to take claim of something he saw as his own. “Is that something you can work with?”

Oswald’s jaw slid to the side as he thought. “Hm. I think I could manage that adjustment. You are _my_ demon, so that could be fair exchange. Addressing ourselves as races for a pet name, somewhat tacky.” He commented, looking for something more satisfying for the tongue. “You’ve used different titles for me before, in Blackgate. Partner, Mate. Would those be of use to you? Are they suitable for you yet?”

Riddler’s brow furrowed at the reminder, not having thought that would be brought back to him on a silver platter. “Seeing as we are in the last step of courting for my species, I believe I could get quickly adjusted to using them. I am… somewhat more attached than I had been during your incarceration.” He could settle into verbally using the names, he had cocooned and marked Oswald after sex, this was child’s play in comparison. 

“Then in replacement of any _‘love’_ exchanges, we could perhaps use a possessive marker with our current possible nicknames. Does that sound suitable to you, _my Darling_?” He tested the waters on his own with a hand raised to brush fingers along Riddler’s jaw, enjoying the combination for himself. This was a wonderful suggestion, and if it suited this half of the demon better he could find himself using it easily.

The demon caught Oswald’s fingers by his chin, holding the hand in place close to his mouth, kissing the backs of the fingers to occupy himself. “My mate. My Partner.” Somehow they didn’t feel like it fit well with a possessive when addressing Oswald aloud. Possession in his head, yes, as a narrative they worked, but to the ear… Hmm. Against _Darling_ they somewhat paled. “No… those aren’t enough.” He needed something that truly praised Oswald. “My…” Nothing criminal really stuck in there, he didn’t know if his species had its own language so he was lost on those possibilities, something that could compete. He needed to make his partner happy and giving Oswald an appropriate name that made him feel apart from the others and preferred… 

Favoritism. 

Oswald loved being held above all others, pampered, and looked after. He was the center of attention in most situations. He wanted to be the focus. He wanted to be… “Desired. My Desire. That is exactly what you are.” He decided, thinking that worked perfectly for many situations, and didn’t seem like he was failing to please his partner with something as dull as _‘my mate’_ in comparison to _‘my Darling’_. Genius. 

The man stared for a long moment, taking in the nickname that hadn’t existed before that moment, catching him off guard. “...Desire?” That was a powerful word to throw about…

Riddler, with Oswald’s hand still caught in his, placed a chivalrous kiss against the backs of his partner’s fingers again. “This sounds very suitable to me, _my Desire_.” Smooth, seductive, perfectly suited for his human. Just the type of service he should be able to give to him. 

Oswald was quiet for a long moment, flustered as he shifted in place against the door. “Well.” He began, eyes taking in the furniture nearby as a distraction. “I suppose that is sufficient.” He agreed, a bit of a grin growing across his mouth as he slipped away from the demon to walk to his desk. 

Riddler tailed after him with his own smirk, knowing he’d done well in accomplishing one more thing casually that he hadn’t before. Giving someone a throwaway pet name to seduce them further with his charm was one thing, genuinely trying to come up with something… emotionally connected for someone was difficult. With their deal settled, he began with scheduling while Oswald made his phone calls, listening in where he could and was filled in on what remained after. 

 

Their type of domestic life was not typical, nor was it normal in many shapes or forms. The closest being when Ed took over and continued his human interests during his turns in control. Their jobs and hobbies were not naturally found, and they certainly did not bring everyday problems. Where was it usual for a demon to take part of a human’s soul in order to fully complete a _going steady_ phase of a relationship? And where was it usual for someone to willingly trade part of their soul in order to feel more bonded with a partner? Or for said partner to later get injured being greedy and giving a taste of thick liquorice in return?

It was their normal, and it was exactly what they wanted.

They remained happy, for the most part, though every couple had their ups and downs. Arguments and bickering were going to occur, but they always made up. Eventually. Depending on who was truly wrong and how stubborn two of the three parties were. Even so, they were close. The two sides of the demon and the human were inseparable at a point.

There was no Oswald Cobblepot without a closely following Incubus in disguise named Edward.

Nothing last forever though.   
Eventually, everything had to go.

Edward was pushing his luck living in Gotham as time passed. Oswald was no longer in his early thirties, now to his mid-forties, with a few more scars than he’d been with before and looking so naturally aged. Meanwhile, the demon still seemed to be in his late twenties to early thirties. In order to stay longer the demon formed a makeup routine each morning, using a few shadowing and trick-of-the-light techniques to add human-like wrinkles to his guise. Where Oswald had natural creases around his eyes and mouth with a few starting on his forehead, Edward’s were created with eyeliner pencils and contour palettes.

Oswald had natural white forming from the roots of his hair for years, white which he had dyed into his late thirties until he couldn’t be bothered anymore. Colorless hairs that then grew into his fringe that he soon no longer liked on his forehead. He began pushing it all back, styling it to wave out behind his head, the white streaks travelling along with the rest of his hair to make him appear more distinguished. At least he believed so. Edward often looked to Oswald for progression of age inspirations, they were similar in physical appearance when they met, so the fiend used him to see what he should be doing next. What started as hair chalk, or baby powder when he was desperate, became getting Oswald to help him bleach out sections of hair around his ears to the back of his head and toning it to a grey color. Doing the few hairs here and there was difficult to replicate naturally, it was much easier to pick a more blocked out style that a number of human men developed.

One thing Edward couldn’t naturally copy was gaining weight. A lot of humans put on weight as they aged, or their weight shifted in different areas. The demon noticed it on Oswald as he got older. He was generally thin with healthy weight when they first met, and now the man had a bit of a belly that showed over the top of his pants. He had enough weight to get a small handful of hip when exposed. His thighs got rounder and more full, his backside the same, Oswald’s face reflected some of the gained weight around his cheeks, jaw, and chin.

Edward loved it. 

Even when Oswald felt self-conscious about the younger man he no longer was, either side of the demon could always find plenty to appreciate. A positive mix of a true loved one and being a sexually open-minded creature created a wonderful balance for a completely loving partner that would adore their other with no question or hesitation. He felt no dip in love for the human at any point, and he gave Oswald every body comfort he could during the man’s insecurities. If anything, Edward felt more love than ever before.

Oswald’s leg became more difficult to handle as time passed, his limp growing into more of a waddle as the joint gave him more and more issues in age. Either side of the demon took care of it every night, heating it and keeping their human on a regularly scheduled physical therapy regime to maintain it as well as they could for as long as possible.

Two things Edward couldn’t change came in the form of injuries Oswald received between the ages of 34 and 41. They were things Oswald hadn’t liked for some time. To that day he still didn’t, but he got used to them enough.

One was the degraded quality of his eye. During a hostile takeover of the Iceberg Lounge, a gang had taken Oswald prisoner while he was at the club to finish business. Edward had been away to handle the henchmen at the manor to hold an evening’s meeting. Oswald had thought himself able to talk to the gang members, as everyone wanted something, but the man set to guard him was too tweaked out on a new street drug to care what he was being offered. It didn’t mean more drugs directly, so why bother? The gang member panicked when Oswald turned too suddenly, reacting by hitting the club owner in the side of the face with the butt of his handgun.

Victor handled the crowd of gang members, Waylon not far behind him, the two clearing out the lounge until the demon could arrive. They had been in the nearby area, able to rush over when a bouncer at the door had called Victor’s emergency number. 

Victor, now in his early forties, had learned he was not entirely invincible. Still, a few close calls to death did not stop him from doing his job or enjoying what he did for a living. His skin was hidden by neat suits, fabric keeping the massed amount of lines he’d cut into himself over the years hidden from public sight, but he was beginning to run out of room in spaces he could easily reach. 

Waylon, now in his early thirties, was more intimidating than he’d been before. The seven foot two nineteen-year-old had become an eight foot six thirty-three-year-old with more defined muscles and frame. Much like the crocodilian receded genetics his body borrowed from, he kept growing as he aged and ate well, having bulked up quickly under Oswald’s care and protection. 

He was an absolute handful to try and feed on Christmas and Thanksgiving.

When the pair had the time to assess Oswald, the man was cupping the left side of his face, brows knitted in pain as he leaned against his desk. Riddler was there shortly after to see the damage for himself. Oswald’s vision was blurred, everything seemed more dim, checking his eyes’ reactions with a penlight got an odd result from the damaged side. Traumatic optic neuropathy. With some steroids and treatment they built back most of his vision, but it wasn’t the same. His colors were off slightly in his left eye, and attempting to read was difficult when he couldn’t focus both ocular orbs the same. The solution, a monocle. A spring gallery monocle on a replaceable chain was added to Oswald’s daily look, helping to even out his vision and prevent the squinting his damaged eye wanted to do. 

His second injury was the loss of a finger, one taken from him when people were attempting to force information about stashes he had his fiend tuck away in case of emergencies. After nearly losing his empire several times, he began stuffing away money here and there from different sources, having his second-in-command hide it in different accounts and in cashes around the city that were guarded by puzzles and riddles only someone of Edward’s intelligence could unlock. It kept them quite safe.

A number of those cashes Oswald didn’t know the locations of or the account numbers for. He could trust his Incubus, and after fourteen years, he’d never been lead astray. He could have some be a secret from even himself, so no one would be able to take it all from him. There would always be something stored away. Unfortunately, his unwillingness to share made his interrogators rather upset. They took the expensive ring off of his hand, something he wore in human tradition for his connection to Edward. They were never married officially, their relationship wasn’t public even then, and the only words out were merely unconfirmed rumors. They kept it quiet because in their business, it worked for them. And it wasn’t something important to advertise, they had nothing to prove to anyone else. Oswald wore the symbol on his right hand ring finger, happy about his connection, but wasn’t looking to push any rumors further.

The ring was removed, the men planning on pawning it for a reasonable price. Anything Penguin had was expensive and worth something. To try and get Oswald to talk they got a chisel and a hammer from their jacket pockets, taking the sharpened chisel to the finger they slid the ring from. With a couple good swings of the hammer, the flesh had been cut and the bone splintered, leaving Oswald screaming with one digit short of how he came in. The blood loss was enough to make him dizzy. The men began to walk away after some blunt force beatings to the ribs and legs, one of their greatest mistakes. Oswald wanted his ring back. And he’d get it back. The idiots had taken his favorite cane, but left it nearby, allowing him a weapon when he managed to wiggle free of his duct tape bindings. Blood made an excellent escape lubricant. He managed himself free, got his cane, shot both of the men torturing him with it and took his ring back by force.

Edward found him collapsed on the ground nearly an hour later, tie wrapped around his hand, dizzy, but generally stable. The finger was a loss, but what infection began was killed and prevented from spreading, letting the still mobile, barely-there stump heal well with a number of stitches. It required skin pulling and adjusting to get it fully closed again and the skin to grow over, but eventually it healed as best it could.

With his ring resized, he moved it to the middle finger of his right hand and continued his business. 

 

This growth lead to the point Edward could no longer stay.   
When Oswald got into his late forties, it was time to say goodbye. 

The demon couldn’t completely replicate everything to age with the people he’d known for the last near twenty years. And with several close calls of him without a made up guise… he had to go elsewhere.

Oswald though, couldn’t leave.

Gotham was Oswald’s home since he was born, it was a place he was in charge of and controlled for both power and sentimentality. He loved the city as much as he hated some of the people within it. Gotham had done well for him, and he was going to see to it that it was taken care of in return. As long as he continued making something on the side. To start over somewhere else, completely fresh with no true connections or notoriety… It was a frightening thought to the criminal kingpin. To leave everything he built in the hands of another…? No. That was something he couldn’t do. 

As much as Edward tried to convince him it wouldn’t be so bad, and Riddler claimed he could rule another city just as well… It wouldn’t be his Gotham. Anywhere else wasn’t his home. Oswald felt _at home_ with the demon, but even he wasn’t his home. His home was Gotham, where his mother and father were buried. His home was with the city that raised him to who he was. He couldn’t leave it. Not yet.

When the Incubus left Gotham, Oswald’s drinking did increase casually through a few glasses a day. Nothing outrageous, he wasn’t off the wall drowning his sorrows every night, he still had an empire to run and danger around each corner. He took up smoking regularly after Edward left. He had a few a week, a couple cigars and a cigarette usually.

When the Incubus left Gotham, Oswald couldn’t say goodbye entirely. Immediately after his move, they exchanged letters once a week, called every other day, but it wasn’t enough after a few months. Four months after his move and Oswald made an unannounced trip to the Blüdhaven police department, looking for a man named Nashton in the forensics team. 

Oswald learned very quickly it was an Edward day when the fiend nearly sprinted to him, moving faster than he should have with a large smile on his face. The surprise was clearly taken well. The man waited around the precinct, taking in the building until the demon could have a lunch break, the two leaving to go to a nearby restaurant to talk. At the end of the break Ed gave Oswald the address and the key to his new apartment, giving the man a more comfortable place to wait until his shift was over. 

The short visit soon became a long weekend stay.

These patterns repeated for each of Oswald’s visits. Every month for a long weekend he took a copy of the apartment key that he was given, waiting in the Incubus’ new space for him, lighting a cigarette while he waited. Ed’s collection kept him company while he waited, a stack of the browline glasses he’d given the demon years ago on display on a shelf while a grown selection of ties made from Oswald’s old suits hung next to a mirror close to his bed. Knick knacks from their life together were sporadically on different shelves. Anything from gifts Oswald had given them to things they stole from restaurants, events, or trips to remember the time together. Even a particular preserved sprig of pine kept in an epoxy block when Oswald had survived meeting Mother Sphinx in the woods of Ireland.

And when the demon got home, Oswald would greet him at the door, blowing a puff of smoke in Edward’s face. What would normally be a rude gesture, was one of the Incubus’ favorite greetings. He took in the smell happily, exhaling contently before bringing Oswald into an encompassing hold and shutting the door with his foot.

It turned out that the demon was extremely partial to the smell of cigarette smoke, it was something of a catnip for them. Even though they both gave him warning about his health, Oswald knew he didn’t have a full lifespan ahead of him. Why not indulge in a small habit that they both could benefit from? The man could relax, and the fiend got extremely affectionate and cozy. 

It wasn’t even frisky or sexual. When he smoked, Edward or Riddler could always be found nearby. They tracked him down where he was smoking to sit near him, hold him, cuddle him, compliment him, play with his hair, massage his leg. Neither side of the demon knew why, but it happened every time. What none of them knew was that smoking reminded an Incubus or Succubus of a home they would have only known for several weeks of their lives at most. The Lower realm smelled a lot like cigarette or cigar smoke naturally, it was a comforting scent that brought many different demons contentment. In most cases, the fiend wasn’t anywhere long enough to take it in. He smelled it in passing and enjoyed it, but moved on. When Oswald smoked either side had time to relax and take it in, have someone to get close to while it happened.

And smoking after their less than regular sexual encounters together? It turned the demon to jelly. Even with Riddler, Oswald lighting a cigarette caught his attention immediately. Though Oswald didn’t approve of smoking in bed for the fact that the ash could potentially get everywhere, he didn’t mind the risk when it meant the demon could hardly lift his tail off the mattress or his head off the pillow because he was too overwhelmed. The mixture of sexual and personal gratification from a happy partner, and the comforting relaxant of the smoke made for a fiend that lazily brushed a hand over whatever area of Oswald he could reach, cuddling into his side as closely as possible.

This continued for two decades until Oswald wasn’t able to travel anymore. His health had begun to deteriorate quickly when he hit his sixties. The roles were then reversed, and Edward made special trips when possible to visit Oswald and spend time with him. When he visited, he realized how much things had changed since he first moved away forty years ago. The staff was entirely different. Other than Oswald, no one knew who he was and the fiend had some issues at the door of people not wanting to let him in. Nothing that a little charm didn’t fix, having the men deliver him to Oswald’s side every time. 

It broke the demon’s heart somewhat to see Oswald aging so quickly after his early sixties. Although it was a guess that could have been made, it was difficult to admit to one’s self that their love was only human and couldn’t last forever. Even worse that their human wouldn’t see one hundred years. At his rate, Oswald would be lucky to see eighty. Very lucky. 

The man was plump and round, his thin figure a distant memory to the additional weight he had at the time. He sat in chairs for most of the day, his leg giving him many problems and Oswald didn’t care for it on his own like he did when Edward was around. He became rather grumpy in general most times, a lot of his staff wondering how the younger being who visited could put up with the agitated man for hours out of several days. How they had anything in common to talk about for half a day. How people could walk in to see Oswald actually laughing, only for the expression to drop when the two noticed they were no longer alone. 

Staff that had no idea who their boss was after decades in an industry that tried to get rid of him at every point. That tried to beat him down and kill him multiple times in his career. That pushed him to the lowest of the low more times than once so he could climb back to the top and reclaim what was his. They knew the Penguin. They knew his ruthlessness. They knew the man that shot on sight and killed without question. They knew the criminal kingpin that destroyed a life if it would benefit him. They knew the underground businessman who brought down others seeking his throne with a few underhanded moves and well-placed spies. They knew the man they couldn’t trust, because none of them could be trusted by him. He’d been betrayed by enough of his _‘staff’_ and had no reason to want to keep someone like that around. A rat, a snitch, an informant, a spy? Some could be turned for a time, but that’s how he came to be who he was. He was the unexpected underdog who took everything from those he worked for. Oswald knew that game well, and refused to let it happen to him. He was cut throat and brutal, because it meant he could live another day. The Penguin was as vicious as they came and accepted no excuses.

So none of them knew about Oswald Cobblepot. 

They didn’t know the softer Cobblepot man that still craved for the touch and company of his beloved ones. His Dearest. His Darling. They didn’t know about the picture kept in his wallet at all times, hidden behind a blank hotel card that no one saw him use. They didn’t know the picture of Ed wrapped around Oswald on a New Year’s night, taken by a hitman they only knew the legends of. Of Ed’s open overcoat hiding a much younger Oswald inside, the man’s face visible over the collar of the jacket, scarves pressed together between their necks. The terrible lighting of a camera flash brightening everything too much because they were out of sight on the roof of a Gotham skyscraper, everything covered in snow. Oswald’s large, fuzzy hat tipped back to give enough room for Ed, still in his bowler, to share a midnight kiss with his loved one, as the human tradition went. Traditions that the Incubus loved to participate in. Traditions Oswald followed religiously because he knew they meant so much to his partner. And winter seasoned traditions were a favorite of Oswald’s. Mostly for the fact that the two of them could get away and he could get close to his furnace of a demon who never seemed to reflect how cold it was outside. His guise tinted his nose and the tips of his ears more pink, but he was never actually cold. No one knew the blank hotel card was used for special long weekends when Edward had moved out of Gotham, where they could meet privately on those holiday tradition days to have time together.

No one knew how alone he felt without Edward there by his side each day. And no one was allowed to know. No one, but the fiend himself. The letters the two wrote gave Oswald some company, keeping them nearby in a puzzle box he never solved himself, but memorized the unlocking steps from Ed’s use. Something safe he could open at any time in order to read back the demon’s loving words. When he sent letters to his fiend he took a page from the Incubus’ book and wrote a false, yet identifiable name on them. Chester Van Dahl. It was simple, easy to remember, and used Edward’s tactics of slightly adjusted identification. 

If someone were to open any of those letters they would be stricken with just how much Chester Van Dahl loved Riddick Nashton and vice versa. The letters had to cease when Oswald could no longer get them himself in secret, all of them had been delivered to Ed’s old apartment in Gotham that the man continued to pay for so no one else would be able to have it. It had made for a safe drop point to gather anything Edward sent him. And sentimentally, he was possessive.

 

In his mid-sixties, Oswald had acquired a new string of employees taken from a new human trafficking ring going through Gotham’s underbelly of lowlifes. That sort of illegal activity was something Penguin put a stop to as soon as it came through the grapevine. That and major drug rings that did his business no good. When they refused to give him a piece of profit in good faith, he was more willing to end it entirely and take the rug out from under someone. Human trafficking, however, was normally a waste of good, potential talent. 

Penguin often took apart human trafficking and employed many of the girls he found. They worked well as spies, courtesans, informants. He gave them a better environment. They had the choice to join his forces, he made it very transparent of what could be expected of them if they joined him. Those who couldn’t handle it, learned quickly how to cook for the manor staff or how to clean any surface. He brought them in to staff his restaurants, his clubs, his businesses, anywhere he could put them. Those who didn’t follow the criminal path did well for themselves as business owners. However, those who did follow a more seedy career were treated well and cared for closely.

They accompanied him to parties, were with him for events. People thought the womanizing Penguin was probably a dirtbag, taking the same girl to a party maybe twice before a new one or even two were on his arms. Most of the other crime bosses and criminals thought he was getting more than enough from any of his women and encouraged him to continue doing so. When he called one of the girls pre or post meeting to _privately discuss_ something, his company took it as a horny old man looking to get off with the freedom having a bevy of girls gave him. 

In reality, he took them to another room, knowing something had happened recently. He was willing to do what was necessary to fix their situation. If he remedied that, they gave him better commitment and better service. It wasn’t just to help them, he wasn’t that charitable, but it inspired better employees. They were more loyal to him when he let a little more of a capable-of-feeling Oswald show, than a shut-off Penguin. It didn’t even need to be much. He didn’t share his own troubles with them, but promising to resolve a situation often gave them more care than they usually received. And when he fulfilled that promise, the girls were ready to work again.

So when two of the ladies under his employ took a particular shine to him, he gave them a chance to prove their commitment. And they did not disappoint him. 

Time and time again, they stuck by Oswald’s side and they did not let him down. He began to trust them enough to help him in day-to-day tasks after two years of them working under his wing. Though even with the increased level of trust, one weekend every month he asked them to leave briefly. Not to bother him or call him. He promised them he’d be taken care of, and when they returned he always seemed to be in better condition than when they left him.

By the time he hit his seventies, they were full-time caretakers for him and what he needed. Both women did nearly everything together, they were hardly separable but handled everything with a proficiency Oswald couldn’t deny. They worked better as a pair, so he kept them together.

So it was them who called a number they couldn’t connect to just a single name from Oswald’s cellphone when their boss was just over seventy four. A phone he used once every two days at 10:30 every morning for a call. Neither of them recognized hearing the voice before that was on the other end. He sounded a little impatient, probably busy with something. They asked the man they called if he knew anything about Oswald Cobblepot. The man denied that he did. When asked about the frequency of dials to the number, the man again didn’t know. There was an older gentleman who kept calling, looking for someone who didn’t have that number anymore and wouldn’t stop calling. 

It only took one thing to get the man to change his tune. Something they didn’t understand the meaning of, but were told to use if they ever needed the help of the stranger who visited their boss. It was meant to be an emergency code, and they were promised that the man would know what he had to do if it was used.

“Please, he needs his Beloved.”

The long pause that followed gave them little confirmation, wondering if they had called the right man, or if they were barking up the wrong tree. The man’s broken silence told them everything they needed to know.

“I’ll be there tonight.”


	25. Saying Goodbye

On a late fall in the early evening, a tall figure approached what was once named the Van Dahl manor. Now the Cobblepot Estate, it had seen some incredible cleanup since his last visit. Which wasn’t the best sign. Oswald always overdid it when something was wrong. He compensated. 

Eyes closed before he could brave knocking on the door, it had been a few years since he’d last been able to visit. Life got in the way, travel plans were interrupted, Gotham had a new terror to deal with… He felt somewhat guilty. And he hated it… He managed to rap the metal door knocker a few times against the wooden barrier. He tapped his foot when the door didn’t open soon enough, but it was answered by a young looking woman, probably in her early thirties, with black hair kept short that swept to one side. She hesitated in seeing his face, head leaning back as she took a guess. “You look about right. Come in.” She invited the man in, taking his overcoat from him to hang nearby on a rack next to the door. “This way.” 

“What is your name?” He asked her, following her lead into the manor he knew like the back of his hand. The interior hadn’t changed at all. 

“Just call me Echo.” She stated, bringing the man down to the master bedroom. “And what should we call you?”

His shoulders sank with a sigh, stopping in front of the door when she refused to open it, waiting for an answer. “Edward.”

She nodded at the confirmation she wanted, opening the door to a second woman bent over the edge of the four poster bed, some of the furniture having seen several upgrades since Edward had last stayed in the manor. The woman turned around, her blonde hair wavy in its entire length to the middle of her shoulder blades. She gave Echo one glance, accepting the nod in return in silent reply. The second woman approached Edward with an almost lost look in her eyes, standing in front of the man they had invited to the manor. “I’m glad you could be here on such short notice. We… We’ve heard a lot about you, Edward. He speaks of you so fondly.” A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You can call me Query. If you need anything, we’ll be nearby. Just ring the bell beside the bed.” She told him what he needed to know before taking the hand of the other woman, the pair leaving together and shut the door behind them. 

When alone, Edward made his way slowly towards the bed, seeing a once powerful Oswald lying peacefully on his mattress and snoring gently. Ever since he started putting on weight he began snoring somewhat. It was endearing in its own way. The room smelled like smoke. It wasn’t new in scent, but a smell that had sunk into the very wallpaper after decades of habit indulgence. The man grit his teeth, eyes meeting the floor as he attempted to control himself better. 

He wanted to hold him so badly… 

He shed his jacket and his shoes, his gloves on the nightstand with his hat. The demon inched his way to the bed with caution, swallowing thickly before taking the plunge to get himself on the mattress with the man he still would do anything for. Beautiful, despite his age and the effects of time. The moving of the bed stirred the man sleeping on it, not as light of a sleeper as he used to be, but it didn’t take much to bring him out of a nap. 

“Why are you here…?” A weakened voice heavy with sleep questioned the body crawling into his bed.

“You call too much and it’s suspicious, sentimental old man.” 

The man in the bed scoffed, opening his eyes a little more. “You’re 148 years older than me, who are you calling old man, you fossil?” His expression was stern for only a moment before a long grin formed, moving his arms to bring the demon he loved into his hold. “It’s been some time, Darling.” 

“It has, I apologize…” 

“Don’t. You have no need for it. Things have happened, but they found you and you’ve managed your way here.” Oswald spoke with some difficulty, head leaning heavily into the Incubus’ shoulder. “Took you long enough though.”

Riddler turned his head to rest his cheek into the top of Oswald’s receded hairline, placing a kiss to his forehead as he laid next to the human he’d been more connected to than any other in his lifetime thus far. “Query and Echo, hm?”

“They needed new identities after I took them in personally. They didn’t mind what they were called, so I named them with you both in mind.”

“And they know about me?”

“They know about us.” Oswald corrected with a long breath, talking making him somewhat winded. “They know you are not from around Gotham originally and that we have been together for years. They know just what I feel about you, that’s all.”

“Why?” Riddler had to question, not understanding why Oswald would give away information and hadn’t told him about it.

Oswald’s hand clutched to the back of Riddler’s dress shirt, the fabric bunching where his right hand ring finger once was. “I want you to take over for me, Riddler. I need Gotham to go to someone who cares once I’m gone. I’m old, I know. I don’t have forever, but I need it to do well. Anyone from your time here… they’re gone. And those who could remember have long since retired, and don’t remember much of the man I once confided in. When I die, those devils could return. And I cannot see them destroy everything I’ve worked for in the last forty years…” He requested, eyes closing again in his tiredness. “The girls must see me in some sad state if they took it upon themselves to call you.”

Riddler was quiet for a moment, head turning away to stare at the end of the bed near his feet. 

_“We knew this day would come, but it’s so different being in the moment.”_ Ed spoke to him, his head turned towards Oswald. _“We haven’t done this before… What do we do?”_ He questioned his other half, unsure of what this would be like. They hadn’t been attached to anyone long enough to see the end of a life like this. Even their own adoptive mother would outlive them. 

“We accept it.” Riddler spoke to Ed, speaking in multiple senses of the word. 

_“It wasn’t our dream, but for him I think we can stay for a time.”_ Ed tried to imagine a plan for later in life when they were still in charge. _“Maybe we should invest in a mask. It could help hide some of our unaging face.”_ Humans aged so much around the eyes, it wouldn’t be so hard to get a mask that distracted from a lack of crow’s feet and wrinkles.

Riddler’s eyes narrowed at his other half. Ed knew that he adored masks and hats… It was most of what made disguises fantastic. It was a tempting thought. “Agreed, and… I’ll think about it.”

_“Don’t pretend with that ‘I’ll think about it’ excuse. I know you waaant tooo.”_ Ed chuckled, trying to make the best of the situation, attempting to cope with the loss already with humor. 

The more cruel half put his attention back on Oswald, keeping the man against his chest. “We’ll take over for you.”

“And use the girls. I’ve been working with them for years, they’ll accomplish whatever you need of them.”

Riddler let out a heavy sigh, skull falling back against the headboard in his reluctance. “We don’t need them, we’ll do it for you.”

“Riddler. They need this as much as you two do, and they already have the respect of the other girls like them working all over Gotham. Use them. They know what to do, they are very capable.” Oswald encouraged, opening his eyes again to look up at the demon seriously. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Riddler.” The man’s tone was stern and not accepting the blatant disregard of his expectations. “You will do it.”

The demon took in the look of his partner for a near minute, squinting in return. “I’m upset that your glare became sexier with your age.” He stated bluntly, breaking the feel of the moment in order to avoid being in any true trouble. “You look so weathered and dangerous now.”

Oswald turned up his nose, his attention now fixed on the window. “Everything became sexier with my age, it’s my curse.” He replied with a smug confidence, a long grin gracing his face again. He took in a deep breath, centering himself as he leaned further into the demon’s shoulder. “Promise me, Riddler. Ed will listen, but I need your word.”

_“It’s going to be one of the last things he asks of us, we can do this for him.”_

Riddler sighed heavily, adjusting himself in his place on the bed. “Alright, I agree. I promise.” He didn’t like it, but he supposed it wouldn’t kill him. Maybe. There was the slim chance, but it was minimal. “Only for you.”

“Of course only for me. If you do this much for anyone else I’ll come back to haunt you.” The man made a promise of his own, never wanting to be second best to anyone. He went quiet for a long moment, a hand moving to rest on the fiend’s thigh comfortably. “How long are you staying?”

“However long you have. If I need to help take care of these two so badly I’ll need to get used to them, and we should have some time together.” Riddler and Ed could pack things up quickly from their current home, they’d return to it eventually, but the focus was on Oswald now. 

“So a weekend?”

“If you die in two days I’m going to find you and bring you back just to keep you around to be angry at.” 

“It won’t be long, I can feel it. Maybe not two days, but… soon.”

“Then we’ll make it count for the rest of your mortal time.” 

Oswald nodded as he shut his eyes, taking in the company of his loved one again. "I've missed you, My Darling."

Riddler pressed another kiss to his human's forehead, feeling oddly sentimental with the condition of the man he held. "And I've missed you, my Desire."

 

Riddler and Ed never left Oswald’s side, staff confused by the man who suddenly appeared and began caring for their boss like he’d always been there. He knew his quirks and his preferences, and he could pick Oswald up like he weighed nothing. To them, it was a mystery. To the demon, they were done hiding some things if it meant giving Oswald a more fond farewell.

It wasn’t two days.   
Nor was it a week.

After another five months together, Oswald passed away in his sleep, body giving out and no longer able to support itself. It was a miracle he was able to live that long, the demon’s constant doting care and help giving the human a little more to look forward to each day. What could have been a month or two had become five, and that was an extent of time that might not have happened without Ed and Riddler there.

Ed woke up to the body and no response, falling into an emotional avalanche that prevented Riddler from easing him back immediately. He had thought he’d be ready for it. Both of them had. And neither was fully able to process losing the human they had treasured so fondly. Riddler left for a time, needing his own space to process just what grieving meant to him, not knowing how to handle something he’d never had happen so deeply. 

Oswald was gone.   
And there was no bringing him back.

It left Ed alone, looking off to pieces of furniture or walls, expecting his other half to appear at one point or another. He felt alone. His head was empty. Something he was never used to. 

Maybe that was why Oswald insisted as much as he did to have Query and Echo at his side. Oswald might have known there would be a split, might have known they’d be alone. He gave them company, people to help busy and distract him. The girls were at Ed’s side for everything, but they didn’t know about his demonology. They brought him food and care, but nothing was ever touched or consumed, leaving the pair concerned.

The nightclub was closed for a week in Oswald’s absence, opening temporarily for a wake after-party where people, criminals, and officials alike gathered to drink and exchange stories. It went well, it went peacefully. It was nothing without the fiend’s human there. No party was as grand as it could be without Oswald Cobblepot there.

 

Human tradition dictated that a black suit be worn at the funeral and burial of another human, but this was one tradition that Ed didn’t want to follow to the letter. His trousers, shoes, and dress shirt were all black, his vest a satin black for contrast in light, but he wore one of his best green, silk suit jackets. He took a long time staring at ties, trading off glasses, unsure of what to do. Nothing seemed right, it didn’t feel like… _enough_.

Ed’s head sunk forward, rubbing his eyes in frustration when a knock was heard at the door, Query and Echo stepping in to see how his progress was. They needed to take him to the funeral, the party the night before, but now they had to officially say goodbye. 

The demon cried, overwhelmed and overtaken with the choices he should be able to make without hesitation, but nothing was how it should feel. All of it was so empty without being able to know his human was somewhere and still there. Still somewhere reachable. Query put her arms around Edward as he began to shiver, hugging him closely while she nodded to the ties for Echo to look through.

While Query’s fingers ran through Ed’s still messy, bed head waves, Echo went through what Ed had around for accessories. She found a tie, going to the display of glasses to pull a particular pair from a box, only worn a few times. Matching cufflinks and a black metal tie clip. They were held in front of the demon, presented for his inspection.

“Here.” Echo kept them in front of her. “I think he’d approve of these.”

She offered Ed a set of purple accessories to add to his current ensemble. A pair of his colored browline glasses in a plum to match the same shade in the velvet tie she picked. It was from one of Oswald’s more outlandish suits that he’d worn to special parties just to show off, when he was younger. It had that ridiculous feathered collar and it stunned the Incubus every time he saw his partner in it.

With his bowler hat in place, an umbrella in hand, and green leather gloves on… he was ready to bury his loved one. His true love, as Oswald had adored to remind either side of him.

 

Edward stood in the front row of the funeral processions. No one present knew who he was or his ties to Oswald other than the previous five months, but he didn’t need to be known. Not yet anyway. Query stood on one side of him, Echo on the other, either woman with an arm of his in their hold. When it came to laying flowers, Edward had been sure to avoid the typical rose. Oswald was not so standard and he wouldn’t get such poor, thoughtless treatment. His mother Gertrud loved lilies, Oswald loved them because they reminded him of her, so that’s what he got. The girls and several others laid lilies on the casket, Edward last with a flower of his own and an umbrella in hand. He put them on the dark mahogany coffin, staring at the wooden box. 

He crouched beside the casket, gloved hand resting on the lid as his guise slipped tears to reflect what he should be feeling. “I’m sorry…” He spoke under his breath, apologizing to his lost lover as he shook gently under his coat. “I’m sorry we didn’t spend every day together… I’m sorry I had to leave. I loved you. I do love you. I’ll always love you… And these last months were both the happiest and saddest I’ve ever been, but I was so happy to have you back. Thank you, Oz… You are my true love… I’ll never forget that.” He stayed down as a few people began to leave the funeral, their part done and not having enough connection to the now deceased to stay.

_“Although we say goodbye, we do have something that we never need let go of.”_

Edward’s head lifted to see his other half on the opposite side of the casket, for once mirroring him in an outfit to its entirety and most of his pose. “You came.”

Riddler nodded somewhat, head down to stare at the well carved wooden box. _“I’m nothing you can hear, but I’m in your music. I’m nothing you can feel, but I’m there when the shoe fits. What am I?”_

The first riddle they asked him… 

“Soul.” Ed answered, raising a hand to press into his torso just below his chest. “We have parts of his soul.”

_“We have most of his original soul and we don’t have to part from it. We may have momentos littered in our collection from this relationship, but… if we were to lose everything… I’d deal with it if it meant we still had him with us.”_ Riddler let out a long breath, eyes raising to meet Edward’s. _“We don’t give up his soul, you understand? No matter who we meet in the future or what we have ahead of us, this is **ours**.”_

In the time of sorrow, Riddler’s possession seemed more sweet than annoying. His other half wasn’t wrong though, they had one of the best keepsakes they could get. Overall, in the last forty plus years, they must have collected about three quarters of Oswald’s original soul, having slipped a bit of it around the hex a piece at a time with the man’s permission. “You’re right.”

_“Of course I am. I’m always right. Now get up, you’ve been down here too long.”_

“But we-”

_“I meant socially. Socially, you’ve been down here too long.”_ His other half pointed out. For not being a directly linked, grieving widower, he shouldn’t be as wrapped up in this as displayed. _“Now that he’s going in the ground… we should get his parents’ gravekeeper to look after him as well.”_ Riddler suggested, it having been in their mind, but Ed had yet to act on it.

Ed stood from his place, Query stepping forward first to take his hand. “Do you want to watch the casket lower?” She got a nod in reply, the demon, his other half, and the two assistants being the last of the gathering to leave the cemetery when the casket was lowered, and each had a turn to toss dirt into the hole, Ed going twice for both of them.

 

There was no taking the demon to any other room to sleep. If only to lay in it all night, Edward went to Oswald’s room, curling up in the bed under the covers. The fiend stopped wearing any scented products days before, his demon form didn’t produce sweat nor did he need the same cleaning as a person did. His sweat produced while looking like a person was only for camouflage, it did nothing else. He wanted the bed to smell as naturally of Oswald as it could without his own human scented shampoos or body washes getting in the way. Ed did this until none of Oswald remained, but the fiend kept his favorite shampoo around and his love’s preferred cologne, every now and then putting a soft spray in the room and lit a cigarette. 

The demon never smoked it himself, he just wanted the scents together. 

And every day Query and Echo got Edward on task, noticing as days past that he got both more stable, but more… odd. Their previous boss told them how Ed didn’t always seem like the same person. One moment he was a happy-go-lucky dork with a big smile and offering solutions to any problem, the next he was standoffish with a sometimes surly attitude and answered problems not to help but because he knew he knew the better answer. That more rough or attitude heavy days were not necessarily a sign of anger, that was just the prevalent side of the being that was present at the time. 

They thought it was mood swings, temperamental geniuses and all that. They didn’t expect Edward to talk to himself when alone, or to zone out as much as he did for spaces at a time. To leave a room relatively chipper only to return like he wanted nothing to do with them. It got to a point where he was surly almost every day completely through, wandering around the manor like a lost child. He had his business done, he felt he could afford time away from the pair.

One morning Echo opened the master bedroom door, having smelled smoke, looking in to find Edward curled up in the bed under sheets that hadn’t been changed in at least week. He was shaking like it was the dead of winter. She understood the sentiment, but… there _was_ a corpse in the bed not long ago. She hardly had the chance to open her mouth before a voice greeted her instead.

“Get out.”

‘Greeted’ was loose in term as far as the tone behind it went.

“Making sure nothing’s burning. I smelled smoke.”

“It’s a cigarette. Now leave.”

Echo stayed in the door, walking into the room to shut the barrier behind her. “Look, I don’t know the whole story. Won’t pretend I do. You’ve got to change things here. You’re moping.” 

“I am not.”

“You are too.”

“Am not.”

“You so are!”

“I’m so not!”  
 _“She’s right, you really are.”_

“I didn’t ask you!”

“You don’t need to!”

_“You are moping and something’s not right with us.”_  
“I don’t need your opinion.”

“You _‘don’t’_ a lot of things, huh?”

“I wasn’t talking to you!”  
 _“You should be though, not be talking to me with her around.”_

“Who are you talking to? Who’ve you been talking to?”

“That’s none of your business!”  
 _“Something’s wrong, we need help. We’re not ourselves…”_  
“We don’t need them.”

“We?”

“Yes, I said _‘we’_. What do you want?!”  
 _“You’re shivering, we shouldn’t be doing this, I’ve felt cold since… he left. We don’t have information on this.”_  
“It’s fine. I’ll get over it, we’ll get over it.”

“Over what?”

“Still not talking to you. Leave!”  
 _“Why aren’t you talking to her? Oswald told us to work with them. They are here to help. He trusted them, why can’t you?”_

“Then _WHO_ are you talking to?”

_“They are here for us, that’s what he said. We can trust his judgement. We need to learn why-”_

**“ENOUGH!”** Riddler shot up in the bed, hands held out to give both Echo and Ed a sign to stop. “Enough! I can’t handle both of you right now! One prying moron is enough, I can’t do two.” He claimed, teeth grit in discomfort, brows resting low over his eyes. His body shook, shivering at the loss of warmth the blankets were giving him, feeling sick to his non-existent stomach.

“Woah… are you okay?” Echo stepped closer, concern for the reaction the being in the bed had. “Look, you haven’t eaten in over a week. You are starving. Let’s get something, we’ll talk.”

Riddler wanted to charm her, make her leave him alone, but he didn’t have the energy. Amidst his trembling, his chest began to heave, the demon unable to conjure even a bit of his spark to react. “Crud… why won’t it work?”

_“I told you, something’s wrong! It’s… it’s freezing…”_

“Why won’t what work?”

Riddler pulled the blankets back over him, sinking under the covers to try and trap in something again. “Nothing. It’s none of your business.”

_“You should tell her… We’re not right! We need help!”_  
“And what would she possibly know?!”

“Why don’t you talk and find out?”

“Why can’t you keep your nose in your OWN business?!” The demon snapped as he tugged the blankets up around his neck, hiding in a cocoon of layers.

“That’s not my job!”

“Well **I’m** your boss now and **I** say it is!”  
 _“I… really don’t think-”_  
“SHUT UP YOU BUMBLING MORON!”

“Hey! You watch what you call me!”

“I. Wasn’t. Talking. To. **YOU!** How many times do I need to clarify this?! How dense are you?!”

Echo’s teeth clenched together, the woman nearly snarling at the demon in the bed. “YOU AREN’T THE ONLY ONE WHO MADE PROMISES!” She screamed back at him, finally losing her cool. 

“And you think I care? You think you’re special because you think you knew him?”  
 _“I wouldn’t tred here… We’re all hurting.”_

“No! I don’t think you care! I don’t think you care about me at all. You care about you, you selfish prick! You’re not the only one who lost him! You’re not that special either, pal!”

Riddler’s chest heaved with his lack of spark, contracting as it tried to kick up the energy to pop with his anger. He was furious, he was frozen, he felt not at all like himself, and worst off he was confused why any of it was happening. “I was too special.” His voice sunk, eyes narrowing to the woman who should have listened to him some time ago.

“Yeah? Is that why you haven’t seen him in years while he’s been dying? Actually dying too! Not just his stupid habit will kill him, but dying? You pop up in the last few months? How convenient! He made it sound like you two were always together. He was ancient, you’re what…? Thirty two? He’s been in this business longer than you’ve been around!” Echo was normally someone of fewer words, but Oswald had been better to her and Query than anyone in their lives. He was good to them in general, other than a few flare ups when his leg was bothering him. He was a good, bad man overall. “You sound like a convenient piece of tail that wandered in from nowhere just to get him for power!”

“He wasn’t even interested in sex in general, what are you talking about _‘tail’_?!” Riddler shouted back, hearing Ed humm in worry behind him. “I treated him with every shred of respect! He was the only one! We’ve been partners for longer than you know, and I would suggest you have half a mind to keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong!” How dare she?! 

“Yeah, how long’s that, gold digger? Ten years? Fifteen max? You some street walker who got lucky and caught his eye? Felt generous to give you pity and you got him off when you could?” Echo was not giving up, nor was she about to bow to the other so easily. That wasn’t her job. She was the reality and the truth. Query was the thought and the feeling. “Fair trade, right?! He talked about you enough, you must’ve made up some really good lies to get The Penguin to believe you.”

“NONE OF IT WAS A LIE!” Riddler whipped around to glare at her, teeth bared as he shouted, being pushed beyond an edge he was already dangling his feet over. **“HOW DARE YOU DOUBT ANYTHING YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT!”** He claimed, throwing the blanket off himself to climb out of the bed to face Echo. His body hated the motions, having him sink slightly in his stance while he shivered relentlessly.

“YEAH?! And you think these crocodile tears mean shit?! You’ve been on and off like a switch since you got here and your sweet facade doesn’t phase me! You are just some deluded, insane snake in the grass that took advantage of him!” Echo jammed a finger against the demon’s chest, ready to tangle with anything that did her boss wrong.

**“I WAS NOT! WE LOVED EACH OTHER AND YOU NEED TO LEARN YOUR PLACE IN THIS MATTER!”** Riddler fell over the cliff’s edge, guise dropping in his weakened state, wings flexed out and wide spread in the room. He towered more over her, seemingly out of breath with large fangs showing, tail thumping angrily against the ground while a pointed claw was inches from Echo’s face. 

_“Oh… now you’ve done it…”_

“What… what are you?”

Riddler was beyond care at this point, stepping closer to Echo to loom over her, his horns casting a shadow across her face. “I am a creature from somewhere you humans fear is Hell. I am an Incubus and I’ve never once charmed Oswald into thinking anything! He was impervious to them. From the moment we met, before you were even a twinkle in your father’s eye. Our relationship was longer than you are old, and I would have broke this city down to its very atoms if he’d asked me to.” He lowered his head to growl in her face. “I haven’t been around because I don’t age like you _humans_ do. I was forced from him. _We_ were forced from him. All those little meetings you were never allowed to see? Well, riddle me this, who do you think he was seeing?!”

“I… oh my god…” Echo stumbled back somewhat, not having expected this sort of turn of events. What did one even do when faced with something like this? “Who… who is _‘we’_ …?” If this thing might kill her anyway, might as well settle her own curiosity.

Riddler rolled his eyes, stepping away from Echo to return to the bed, tucking his wings closely to his back. “I have a personality disorder. I’m the personality and you will call me the Riddler. That _facade_ you spoke of? That is Ed, he’s the original.” He told her with a sneer, annoyed that he had to spell it out at that point. He sat on the bed, picking up the cigarette to get a closer smell of it before putting it back. “I fight Ed to take control when I wish, and somehow Oswald loved us both. He was _my_ human, and **_my_** Desire! And I will thank you to never forget who was here long before you. I was too special. We both were. He made sure we didn’t forget it, and neither will you.” He warned her, shivering again as he laid on his stomach on the bed, wings bundled in the blanket around him, tail hanging over the edge of the furniture, facing Oswald’s pillow.

She wouldn’t have believed it in a thousand years, even seeing it didn’t feel like enough. “I…” How did one even react to this? What did she do? This was not her area of expertise in most situations. “That’s… maybe why he liked us so much.” She began, looking at the mass under the sheet. “He picked the two of us, Query and I. We were never apart. She felt, she loved, she made the jokes, she’s always been the support.” Though Riddler didn’t move she could see his ear twitch, so… he might’ve been listening. “I tell it how it is, I think first and feel second, fiery temper, I was the fighter who got offended for him. Not that he needed the help.” It made some sense. “Maybe he took a shine to us because we reminded him of you. He missed you both a lot. We were the only ones who knew about this strange man he met once and fell for with his weird quirks and his handsome face. We were the closest thing he could find to having you back with him…” 

It wouldn’t surprise her if he took them in not out of the pure kindness of his heart, but because he got something from them by doing so. Other than servitude. He had so many people to serve him, he didn’t need that from them. He needed his true love back, and they were the best he could get. 

Well, maybe she fucked up a bit.  
Not that she had the whole story to presume he was a non-aging creature from Hell that her boss met 40 years ago. 

Echo sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “Eugh… I’m sorry.” She apologized, knowing she’d made a mistake. “I guess you really are that special.”

“I told you so.”  
 _“Ask her. We need help…”_

Echo ran a hand through her short hair, glancing back to the door then to the demon again. “I’ll just… leave you to it, I guess. If you need something… I dunno the bell is still there. I’ll be nearby.”

_“Ask her.”_  
“Fine.” Riddler addressed her but not Ed, letting Echo walk out of the room while he began to shiver again. When the door closed he frowned heavily. “Next time someone starts pressuring us about him, keep it shut. I don’t have the energy to keep you in there.” He spoke bitterly, staring at the pillow and easily recalling Oswald in several stages of his life looking back.

Why’d his head have to be so perfect?

_“So that we can remember him. What would be worse? That we remember him down to every wrinkle, or that we forgot important things about him?”_ Ed shared his perspective, seeing the pillow from Riddler’s eyes while his own began to shine. He didn’t cry, but he seemed to be on the perpetual edge of doing so. _“We both know it’d drive us crazy if we couldn’t remember which side his penicillin core freckles were on.”_

“His right shoulder.”

_“And that’s a fond thing we’ll always remember.”_

“How he looked walking out of a bath…” Riddler recalled, the image vivid in his mind. “When he started putting on weight, walking out of the water stark naked with the casualness of any demon… I could watch the water droplets roll down his skin until he was dry…” Even non-sexually, admiring Oswald was one of his favorite things. And the man’s disregard for shame in his exposed form was such an attractive feature. 

_“When we used to fight, and he’d always light a cigar to say he was ready to talk.”_ Not a cigarette, but one of his more expensive cigars. Just for them, to show he was prepared and calmed down, something for them to track and naturally bring them to him.

“How he tried to continually find us demon research in order to learn more. Though most were hokey, he managed somehow.” Oswald had procured two books that actually seemed to have some substance to their lore and stories. Things in a black magic area of underground trading that the man dabbled more in, in order to help the fiend. How he could trade souls if he found other beings in order to get what he wanted.

Souls.  
Hmm…

_“We’ll have to find another source for food now.”_

“I know.” Riddler sighed heavily, still feeling trembles take his shoulders, the thought of going on alone without his now preferred food source brought a shaking down his back that shook him in place. He hadn’t had to hunt in some time. It was easy to feed from Oswald. The human could hold an almost endless amount of souls as a person, he just had to collect them in larger amounts of fractions. The Incubus could always store enough to last until Oswald’s next visit. 

They had to reopen the Iceberg Lounge, but somehow it felt wrong to find food there with Oswald gone. There were more bars in town, or he’d meet someone on the street. A simple charm and it would be fine. Still, he shivered at the thought.

Shaking… thinking of him.

_“We’re forming a pattern.”_  
“We are.” 

_“Think of him. What can we recall…?”_ Ed brought it up, noticing the pattern at the same time as his other half. They needed to experiment with this. _“Something happy. Something pleasing of him.”_

Something pleasing. Something pleasing… Riddler could recall how Oswald would approach him some mornings. When he was already up, business in hand, sitting in the chairs beside the bed to work peacefully until the human would wake. How Oswald would crack his eyes open, find him in the room and stare for a long few moments as his brain caught up to the real world.

He’d ask what time it was, stretch, get out of bed, and walk over to see what he was doing. Oswald would glance over the files, glare at them slightly, not yet awake enough to focus. He’d leave a hand on the demon’s shoulder as he debated his next move, which was always the same. He would make a small acknowledgement in the form of a hum, kissing his temple, before hobbling away and let his hand drag across the fiend’s shoulders lazily as he did. Every other instance Riddler would follow along, going with the other to keep him company in the bath while they soaked Oswald’s leg before a good scrubbing over.

Sometimes Riddler could slide into the tub with the man, cozying up behind the human and enjoyed the clawfoot bathtub for its leg room and height. For what bend in his legs he still needed, the water was above them completely.

A happy memory… 

Him sat behind Oswald in the clawfoot tub, water steaming it was so warm, arms wrapped around the human’s soft, somewhat extended middle. They would talk about almost nothing, meaningless, trivial things. No business entered the bathtub. It was a place for relaxing and bathing. 

Riddler’s chest heaved again, his spark trying to start though his lack of energy kept it from picking up. 

The demon got bored easily in the tub, with little to do and hardly any conversation he’d occupy himself by kissing over Oswald’s shoulders, his neck, behind his ears. Anywhere he could reach without submerging his face, really. He already had his hair done by that point in the morning, he wasn’t going to soak it and mess it up. Not when it was perfectly coiffed already. 

Riddler’s trembling stopped, putting the two sides of his mind at ease. His shoulders finally relaxed, opening his eyes to take in Ed looking back at him with a soft smile. The harsher of the two kept his face more stoic, taking note of his reactions.

“And now for less than happy.” Riddler experimented, thinking back to the same time, but his perspective changed, thinking how the time in the tub was never going to happen again. It was lost in time and the only thing that remained was a memory. 

The thought of losing touch did not create the same reaction as before. It upset him to a degree, sure, but physically he was fine. It was when Riddler shifted his thoughts that Oswald would be missing that gave him a deep chill up his back that penetrated into his chest. That he was nowhere to be found, but in the ground currently. He shivered at the idea, muscles contracting with his new found temperature drop.

_“That’s it. Our missing Oswald is causing a physical reaction!”_

“Is this possibly a side effect of having completed a long-term relationship coupled with a successful courting?” Riddler questioned with a raised brow, shuddering as he pulled the blanket over himself again. “Is this what happens with a bonded creature of our species?”

_“It seems to be a possibility.”_ Ed answered him, looking over his other half with a lost stare. _“I’ve never had a relationship long enough to see this, and you’ve refused to have one.”_ They had no experience, and no other demons they’d met had warned them about the outcome, if this was what it seemed to be. 

“We’ll have to accustom ourselves to this then. If this is what will happen so long as we miss his presence.” 

_“We’ll have to put effort into turning what missing thoughts we have into positive mental exercises. If we can catch ourselves early enough, we may not have a reaction. Dilute that negative reaction with a positive thought, turn it into a fond memory.”_

Riddler sat quiet for a moment, blanket balled in his fists while it was kept securely around him. “Fine. I have an idea of how to use those two… assistants. If only to please him in his afterlife, I think we can manage giving them a few tasks.”

_“We?”_ Ed stared at his other half incredulously. _“I’ve been accepting their help since Oswald suggested it._ You’re _the one who fought and refused help, Mr. Independent.”_

“I don’t have the energy for you right now, or your attitude. I’ll get their assistance, be happy about that.” The more cruel half sneered, not looking for a lecture about the turn around or his begrudgingly made decisions. He left the room, guise on, blanket hauled close to his body. He barely made it a few steps down the hall when he saw Echo sitting on the floor, back against the wall under a window with Query sat next to her. 

The two sat closely, talking low under whispers. It didn’t look malicious or like they were discussing anything with bite to their words, it was a simple discussion with Echo running a hand through her short hair. One may have been explaining to the other what had happened in the room, but Riddler would worry about that at another point. Instead, he marched over to the pair to interrupt the conversation with his presence.

“I need you two to arrange attendees for a funeral.”

“A funeral…?” Echo copied in the form of a question, voice soft, not understanding the angle. “We just had one, why are we having a second?”

“I need it. A proper one for Oswald, but done my way.” Riddler kept it short, attempting not to trigger his physical reactions too hard while trying to explain his needs to the assistants.

Query eyed Riddler oddly, as if she was looking for something. Which confirmed to the demon what the conversation might have been about. “What makes it more _‘proper_ ’?” If they knew why it was special then that might make a difference.

Although not many, the Incubus knew of several demons from their relationship together that they’d met or that Oswald knew from business. There were not many, but his human was a creative, brutal, soul-filled businessman with no match, he attracted demons where he went if they were around. They liked him. They liked him the way Riddler knew other demons would, he wasn’t the traditional boring human. Oswald never was. 

Maybe they could have a proper send off.

“You two are about to be introduced to a different kind of world, one you likely didn’t know existed among your own until now.” Riddler’s eyes locked onto Echo more, authoritative despite the cozy, patterned blanket that formed a mobile burrito around himself. “I will give you numbers, you make the calls. Coordinate them all to be here in three days in the evening. That gives Eddie and I time.” Time to what… he wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps center himself, begin to put Ed’s positive enforcement steps into place, something. He would just appreciate a little more time alone. 

Query nodded gently, standing first before taking Echo’s offered hand to pull her off the ground surface and onto her level. “We can do that. Is there anything special we need to include while calling, or…?”

“No. Tell them Oswald has passed and I request their presence, that should be more than enough.”

With that, the pair of women left to begin on their tasks. Echo looked back to the demon as they abandoned him in the hall, Query wanted to jump on the task at hand now that they were finally given one. She wasn’t about to mess this up and ruin his rare trust in them. If this was the sassier side of their previous boss’ lover, then getting anything at all should be followed quickly. Oswald said he could sometimes be stubborn.

The two ways to combat it?  
Be entirely accepting and supportive, or be even more stubborn. 

Right then… maybe it was time to be supportive.

 

Two days later Riddler got a visit from an unexpected guest, scaring Query nearly out of her slippers while Echo got defensively in front of her, also scared but willing to butt in. It was only when Riddler walked by several minutes later that the situation was diffused, the guest invited to stay with them for the next couple days.

The guest was older than he remembered and showed it. Cataracts seemed to have taken his left eye, he hadn’t grown in some time, but when towering at just about eleven feet, that was probably for the best. He was incredibly large, muscular still, but his movement were slower than in his youth. Still, Riddler appreciated the company of a familiar face he didn’t need to play stupid around. 

Waylon made a wonderful guest, all things considered. He kept Riddler company at times, and the demon could partake in the beastial man’s still preferred brutalities in order to give him something of a chuckle. It wasn’t the same, but he appreciated Waylon’s efforts internally.

The crocodilian man wished to stay around the fiend, looking to help comfort in the time of loss. He wasn’t able to attend the funeral, he couldn’t walk around casually in public with his looks or reputation. And for that, he was sorry. Not for his reputation, he would consume someone in a moment. For not attending the funeral, he was sorry. Oswald took care of him for many years, he would do similar for the creature that took care of the man that took care of him. 

 

The next day proved fruitful when people began arriving on the Cobblepot Estate doorstep, the entirety of the manor staff off except for Echo and Query, the two able to greet two guests before they were needed to drag a skinned goat’s corpse onto a cart and deliver it to a guest room set up downstairs. 

Riddler took it upon himself to greet everyone else that arrived, the small party consisting of seven people in total, but it was all that was needed. There was an understanding among the group, even with the two devils in the party who had history with the Incubus. 

A Charon was in the party, one Oswald knew through arms dealing transportation. There was an older woman, an Erinyes, who adored the spite many spirits had for Oswald. A Keres spirit that adored Oswald’s brutality nearly more than the Incubus himself. Lastly, a Mormolykeia that Oswald met by accident in a marketplace.

The fiend invited each of them in, bringing them to Oswald’s old office lit with candles on the outer edges of the desk his Desire worked at for years. It seemed the most appropriate due to it being where he had the majority of time spent. And the human’s heart was always in his business. The Iceberg Lounge was open to the public again, and they didn’t want it shut down for another personal event. The seven demons stood around the desk, waiting in silence for a long moment before the Erinyes stepped forward. 

Her long, royal purple dress trailed the floor behind her, sparkling subtly against the light the candles cast. “I’ve known your human, Edward, for fifteen years. And never did he soften. He was ever as cruel as the day we first met, though the spirits that followed him grew. They hated him so powerfully, it was incredible.” She recalled with a smile, setting a small softly glowing orb on the cleared off desk with a hand-sized doll resembling Oswald in his 60’s. “Any demon would be proud to have him on their arm.” She took a moment at the desk before stepping back, returning to her place several feet away.

Each figure came prepared with an object of memory for the human that passed as well as an orb. The orb was an offering to the partner of the dead human, it contained a few souls in consolation to the demon. Whatever they did with it, was their own business.

Her retraction had the next creature stepping forward. A thin, gaunt man dressed in solid white, long fingers clutching several coins and an orb much like the first. He set them down with the first gifts, taking in a long, hollow breath. His movements were languid as he directed his attention to the Incubus. “I had no feelings either way to your human, but he learned quickly of how my kind does business. He was courteous to our ways, he obeyed our wishes. He paid each toll when we crossed paths. I felt no need to drown him.” From a demon ferryman for the underworld and illegal activity that was an incredibly high praise. He took his moment as he set the items on the desk, repeating the Erinyes’ actions to retreat. 

The Keres approached next, a young woman with blood-red lipstick, a white feathered cloak, and a tattered pinstriped dress that skirted her knees. “His cruelty… My sisters, we would talk about it. All the time we spoke of it. He left us people, left them barely alive for us to have. They would squirm and try to yell for help. He knew how we liked them… He never forgot when we were around.” She wiped a tear away from her eye, placing yet another orb and a sealed vial of blood on the desk. She took her moment, then backed away.

The Mormolykeia said nothing. She wore a long, white veil, most of her body covered in a white robe as she nearly glided in step to the desk. Another glowing orb was placed with the others, along with a bundled scrap of luxurious fabric tied by a purple ribbon. She nodded her head to the fiend of the evening, her head tilting to the face of the desk for a long moment before she back away from it.

The Galavan devils approached together, each setting down an orb as tradition dictated, and their own items. A folded piece of paper with a wax seal, as well as one of Tabitha’s daggers. The devil siblings stood side-by-side, Tabitha in mostly white and leathers while Theo wore a silk white suit and a purple tie. Theo spoke for them both, addressing the fiend he never liked. “As much as I despise you, Oswald was interesting. He was a human of business, he was underhanded and conniving. He killed me. Something only one other human has accomplished, he was an impressive mortal.” He took a moment, letting go of a breath. “You were lucky to have his company.” The pair of devils made their parting silence before stepping back, leaving Riddler as the last to approach.

The Incubus stood in waiting, Ed’s projected figure beside him. This was a demon tradition, so the demon lifestyle preferring of them was in physical attendance. He took a moment before stepping forward, eyes on all those who came. “On his behalf, I would like to thank you for your appearances here tonight. And appreciation from myself as well.” He set a hand on the desk, looking down at it through his glasses.

The two sides of the demon wore completely matching suits, their suit in white, dress shirt in a purple material that shimmered when it caught the light, tie in white with a purple striped pattern. His hair coiffed back, his hat forgotten. His glasses having been the plum pair since the funeral, matching purple leather gloves on his hands. Ed made the suggestion that Oswald’s nearly trademarked shade of purple should be the accent color for the send off. 

“He’s been deserving of this for many years.” Riddler began, eyes on the pile of connected items on the desk’s wooden surface. “He’s the most despicable human I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. Cruel in his ways, but thoughtful. Attentive to whom he enjoyed, and brutal to those he didn’t.” The demon clenched his jaw, closing his eyes as he focused. “I’ve never met anyone with as fast of a desire to murder someone. As soon as it became an option, when it was convenient, he took advantage of it. I’ve seen many times… the moment when he decides to take a life in order to either save his own or to make a convenient opening for himself, and it is… stunning. Beautiful.” 

_“He was so happy when he got those canes and umbrellas. A new way to surprise someone, to use their assumptions to his advantage. He made his career from being the underestimated, being the unassumed threat. He was so pleased to be able to display his power and his ability to come out on top.”_ Ed grinned, even more pleased when his sentiments were reflected through his other half to the room. He placed a hand on Riddler’s shoulder, standing by during the ceremony.

“To see that you, the ones gathered here, agree with those sentiments is… meaningful.” Riddler spoke, opening his eyes to look over the few with him. To have actually known and met demons as the beings they were born as was impressive. To have established relationships with them and to have caught their attention further highlighted what kind of a person his Desire was. “Tonight, we say goodbye to Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, one of the rare humans deserving of demon recognition and praise.”

“He was horrid.”  
“Depraved.”  
“Savage.”  
“Unforgiving.”  
“Cut throat.”  
“Cruel.”

As each demon spoke their minds, they traded a dagger imbued with magic that began at the Erinyes, who cut her arm slightly before passing on the blade. She took the pale pink liquid that oozed out on her thumb, streaking it down the inside of her wrist. Each fiend and spirit after her copying with either their own blood or the blood of their neighbor. The blood streak being placed specifically to pay respects to the fact it was an Incubus’ bonded partner that passed.

Riddler was last, removing his jacket and rolled his sleeve up his forearm to his elbow. He cut below the joint of his arm, much like the others had, covering the surface of his thumb in the blackened-blue blood. He hesitated before applying it, streaking the blood down the underbelly of his wrist slowly. He held back a shiver, pressing it down within himself while his stared at the fresh blood.

This was the last goodbye.

The Incubus let a small breath slip from his slightly parted lips. “He was perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more.
> 
> One more left kids, and then we're done with this.  
> One more and then we're concluded the main story line.
> 
> Here's hoping side plots and weird add-ons keep the spirit of this living.


End file.
